


Florence & the Wolf Whisperer

by ItsKarla



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Crush, Bottom Derek Hale, Denial of Feelings, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Needs Therapy, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek has a traumatic past, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives, Feelings Realization, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pining Derek, Scents & Smells, Sharing a Bed, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Stiles is a therapist, Top Stiles Stilinski, mentions of rape/non-con, mentions of the fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsKarla/pseuds/ItsKarla
Summary: “I-” Derek starts and clears his throat, because his voice sounds rusty from not being used that often so far today, “I’m waiting for the doc, thanks.” Please let him know I’m here, he adds in his head.The guy freezes, blinks like an owl, mouth ajar. Doc Stilinski really should think about hiring a new assistant, that kid looks a bit overextended. Derek shifts on his feet uncomfortably.Then the guy starts chuckling and it sounds a bit hysterical, while the bitter smell of embarrassment is filling Derek’s nostrils.“Yeah. Well,” the boy with the honey eyes says, dragging the words, “I kinda… am… Doc Stilinski. Yep. That’s me.” He points with his thumb towards his own chest.This… kid is his therapist?!———Derek Hale‘s therapist is unprofessional, chaotic, he‘s talking way too much. In short: he is infuriating.And probably Derek‘s mate. Ah, damn.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 36
Kudos: 446
Collections: 12 Days of Sterek





	Florence & the Wolf Whisperer

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this fandom and I‘m kinda scared to post this.
> 
> I am in absolute awe of all the talented writers of this fandom and I can‘t thank you all enough for giving us all these fantastic stories. ❤️
> 
> I hope you like this. 🤗 
> 
> ( In the fic is a song mentioned, it‘s Howl by Florence & the machine. You can listen to it [here](https://youtu.be/JZweDwbJ_Ic) )

“Hello Mister Hale, you can take a seat in our waiting area, the doc will see you as soon as possible,” the blonde receptionist, a pretty girl called “Erica” according to her name tag, informs him. “There is a wardrobe for your jacket on the left,” she points in the direction and flashes a smile at him.

Beta.

Derek can smell it. Wordlessly he turns around, passes the wardrobe without even looking and takes one of the plushy chairs in the corner. The leather jacket stays on, he thinks stubbornly. He feels better with it. Safer. As if it is some sort of shield.

It’s not a rational thought at all, Derek is aware, but then again, lots of his thoughts recently aren’t rational and that’s the reason why he’s here after all, isn’t it?

That and the pressure of his parents, who basically blackmailed him to come here, which not only sucks big time, it’s also bloody unfair. Because how could Derek say ‘no’ to them after what happened? That’s right. He can’t.

He hates this already.

Derek’s gaze wanders around, taking his surroundings in, and what he sees doesn’t lift up his mood. There are framed pictures of superheroes on the wall, as in… comic book superheroes. Superman, Spider-Man, Batman, The Hulk, Captain America… 

Derek isn’t sure what pisses him off more: the fact that it makes him feel like he’s at a pediatrics office or that Marvel and DC are put together in such an almost insulting random manner. 

It makes him wonder how old this psychologist is. Maybe he should have googled him. All Derek knows is that they were a recommendation his parents got from one of their friends back home in Beacon Hills, the sheriff. It’s been years since Derek last saw Stilinski, but apparently the old man has a son here in L.A. who happens to be a Psy.D.

How freaking small is the world?

Just when Derek wants to pull out his iPhone to type in a search for this mysterious ‘M. Stilinski’, a door opens and a young looking guy with scrubby hair pokes his head out.

“Mr. Hale?” he asks, looking around as if there were 20 other people waiting and not just Derek. 

Honey brown eyes are locking on his own. Derek lifts his eyebrows in response which gets him a broad smile in return. Honestly, it’s a miracle to Derek, how people can smile that widely, it looks like his face is about to split in two.

“Come on in!” the young man nods backwards and promptly bumps his head against the door. “Oww!”

Derek bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. Oh, humans are so clumsy sometimes, it’s actually funny. He gets up and walks over to the door, where the guy just disappeared, rubbing the back of his head furiously. 

The office is a nice room, Derek’s got to admit. The walls are painted in a light green, which is his favourite colour because it reminds him of the woods at his parent’s home. There is a huge book shelf that takes up a complete wall and he wonders if Dr. Stilinski has read them all. Which brings him back to the question how old this doc is?!

Somewhere under a dozen of messy piles of paper must be a desk hidden and just when the psychologist was about to climb up a few steps on Derek approval rating, now he’s immediately crashing down again. 

Derek hates chaos. 

His fingers are itching with the need to organise these piles of probably _confidential patient information_. The thought of being another loose paper in M. Stilinski’s mess makes his guts turn slowly. 

Urgh.

“Have a seat,” the voice of the young man is pulling him out of his thoughts.

The guy is standing next to two armchairs, which are slightly angled towards the floor-to-ceiling-window. 

“I-” Derek starts and clears his throat, because his voice sounds rusty from not being used that often so far today, “I’m waiting for the doc, thanks.” Please let him know I’m here, he adds in his head.

The guy freezes, blinks like an owl, mouth ajar. Doc Stilinski really should think about hiring a new assistant, that kid looks a bit overextended. Derek shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

Maybe he should just leave, this was a stupid idea right from the beginning anyway. 

Then the guy starts chuckling and it sounds a bit hysterical, while the bitter smell of embarrassment is filling Derek’s nostrils. 

“Yeah. Well,” the boy with the honey eyes says, dragging the words, “I kinda… am… Doc Stilinski. Yep. That’s me.” He points with his thumb towards his own chest.

Thumb, chest, Star Wars shirt, plaid overshirt, honey eyes, scrubby hair, Star Wars shirt, thumb… Derek’s eyes are flicking around, trying to process the words being said. 

This… _kid_ is his therapist?!

“You’re a kid.”

It’s not even a question. M. Stilinski can’t be older than 20. How the hell is this a Psy.D.?!

“Rude,” the boy - no scratch that - the doc pouts and crosses his arms in front of his stupid _Star Wars shirt._

Derek doesn't have enough words to describe the absurdity of this moment. This has to be some sort of a sick joke, maybe it’s a prank from Laura.

“I’m 29,” Stilinski insists. 

“Right,” Derek scoffs and crosses his arms himself. The leather of his jacket is making a squeaking sound. “Prove it.” He lifts his chin.

The boy’s jaw falls open in disbelief, he stands there for about 5 seconds, motionless, before he finally springs to action. 

He’s swearing under his breath, it sounds Polish if Derek isn‘t completely mistaken, while he’s fishing out his wallet from the back pocket of his skinny jeans. 

Derek rolls his eyes. _Unprofessional_ , chaotic and looking like a minor - whatever picture he had of a psychologist in his head, M. Stilinski surely fits none of them. The guy shows him his ID by basically shoving it in Derek’s nose. He has to take a step back to being able to focus his eyes on the small letters. 

“Mi-Eh-, Mies-” he tries to read the name aloud, but damn there are a lot of consonants. 

“Stiles.”

“Eh?” Derek’s gaze flicks from the ID up to Stilinski’s face, which is suddenly very close. He sees little moles splattered across the smooth skin, sees big brown eyes and a mouth that always seems to be wearing a tiny smile. Derek tries his best to ignore the smell of oranges, cinnamon and pepper that’s hitting his olfactory nerve. 

“People call me Stiles.” The ~~brown~~ ~~honey~~ amber eyes are framed by long black lashes.

Unprofessional, chaotic, looking like a minor, named like a _cartoon character,_ Derek lists off in his head. He looks back down to check the age. Bloody hell. The boy is actually 29.

“People ask you often to show your ID, don’t they,” he says dryly, not willing to admit that he was wrong and maybe a tiny little bit offensive.

Stiles sighs and puts the document back in his wallet. “Everytime I go into a bar.” The Psy.D. gives him a crooked smile and points towards the chairs again. “Come on, Mr. Hale, let’s have a seat.”

“Derek.“

“Hm?“ Stiles hums when he slumbs down on the armchair.

“I can‘t call you _Stiles_ when you keep calling me Mr. Hale.“

It‘s so bizarre, this first session is honestly nothing - _nothing! -_ how he imagined seeing a shrink before. How is this Derek‘s life, he thinks when he sits down too. 

At least the view is nice. The huge window offers a breathtaking panorama on downtown L.A. in the distance. Although he's been living here for over 15 years now, Derek supposes he’ll never get fully used to the view of the city. The towers look unreal from here, radiating the capitalistic vibes of work, extra hours, money and competition. Derek can almost hear the never ending noise of traffic, can almost smell the stench of fumes. 

He misses Beacon Hills. A moment of incredible homesickness hits him. 

When he moved out from home, he ignored the concerned looks from his parents and the snarky remarks from Laura. 

Der, you‘re gonna need a pack sooner or later. 

Derek was young and stupid and stubborn and he wanted to prove them wrong.

And he did. He was fine. Until-

“So, Derek,“ Stiles interrupts his nostalgia carefully, “is there something you wanna talk about?“

Derek raises his eyebrows slowly. Like, really?!

“That‘s your opener?“ he asks in disbelief. 

Stiles narrows his eyes and gives him a long look. There is silence in the office, dead silence.

Derek just stares back, tries not to blink. His expectations of getting actual help here went out of the window when he discovered his shrink is looking and acting like a teenager, but since he already paid for this hour, he might as well get some amusement out of it. 

They are staring each other down, until Stiles huffs, flails his arms and slumps back into his seat. 

And oh yes, winding up that doc _is_ amusing!

~~~

Derek opens the door of his apartment and walks in on jelly legs. Sweat is running down his forehead, back and stomach, the grey shirt clings to his body and his sensitive nose can smell his own stench.

Absolutely gross. 

And amazing.

Maybe that‘s why he loves his job as a personal trainer so much, because he craves that feeling of being maxed out. That peaceful state when his head is light, his mind empty and his body bone deep tired for a nap. 

He downs a bottle of water and has to stabilise himself at the kitchen counter. These two sessions he booked in without break pushed him to his own limits. At first he ran about ten miles with Mrs Rhodes, a successful lawyer who was married with her job but hated to run alone, and then he did one of his infamous boot camps.

Derek started the boot camp about ten years ago, by calling some of his clients together for a group meeting. Their gym basically was the park, their equipment were stairs and hills. Slowly the group got bigger and bigger until Derek had to split them. Then, one day, a youtube fitness blogger took part and that was the best promo Derek could ever wish for. Ever since then the demand for his classes increased and his outlook was full with new orders. 

_Triskele - fitness, food & faith _ was a booming business. 

And the best thing is, it gives Derek the possibility of being outside all day, of being active all day. He loves the boot camps and while he pushes his client to their limits, they praise him for how he’s testing his own with every session. The ten miles with Mrs Rhodes were just the warm up for it. 

After his out-of-bed boot camp and his early morning clients, this was his afternoon session. Now he‘s got a three hours break until his afterwork appointments. All Derek needs now is a long and hot shower and a quick nap.

He sighs. God, that sounds amazing.

Just when he‘s on the way to the bathroom, his phone starts ringing and all his light headed endorphin rush is shattered just like that. 

Dudu-du-duh chick-chack

Dudu-du-duh chick chack

The Adam‘s family ringtone echoes through his kitchen, signalling a call from one of his family members. 

At some point he started to match his family and friends (not that there were a lot, to be honest) a different ringtone then the classic iPhone sound, to recognize immediately if it‘s a call from a client (=important) or from his family (=call back tomorrow).

Since the _incident_ Derek mostly takes his mother‘s or his sister‘s call instead of ignoring them, probably due to his guilty conscience. 

He sighs and walks back into his kitchen where his phone is lying on the counter. Of course it‘s his mum. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he tries to gather much needed strength for taking the call.

With another sigh, his thumb slides over the screen.

“Hi mum.“

“Hello, love.“ 

Talia‘s voice crawls into his sensitive ears and Derek can‘t help but let out a little whine.

She‘s his alpha after all and _does_ feel good to hear her voice. And yeah, Derek _does_ feel homesick, an awful lot in fact, but life isn‘t just black or white for him. Life is a lot of gray actually. 

His feelings towards his family are so complicated and although he misses them, he knows he can’t just move back to Beacon Hill’s and crawl up into his mother’s arms - it would feel like a defeat. 

“How are you?” his mum asks-

and that’s just how quickly his little bubble of sweet emotions bursts and Derek’s crushing back into reality. He knows what his mum wants to hear. His problem is, he can’t give her what she wants.

“I’m fine,” he says, knowing that won’t be enough information for Talia Hale and her loud sigh on the other end of the phone call confirms his suspicions.

“How was the counselling?”

At least she jumps right in and doesn’t beat around the bush, Derek has to give her that. 

“Yeah, good.”

That is… like… the overstatement of the decade probably, considering that he spent a whole hour sitting in Stiles Stilinki’s office stubbornly staring into amber eyes, not willing to speak a single word. And Stiles just stared back at him. 

There was actually a point, maybe after 25 minutes, where Derek considered _talking,_ telling Stiles that this was just _childish,_ but then again… this was a kinda blink-and-you-lose situation and Derek is a sore loser. A very sore loser. So he stayed silent, he kept glaring, until Stiles got up eventually and informed him that their hour was over. 

He can’t tell his mum that obviously. 

“Derek, will I ever get more from you on the phone than two-word-answers?”

“Probably not,” he says and starts grinning. 

Aww, a joke! If Kira was here, she would probably tease him with that weak attempt of humour only to high-five him a second later, but of course Kira isn’t here. The thought about his best friend kills his good mood in a nanosecond. Kira was his anchor here in L.A., his sort-of-pack... until it all went downhill. 

Derek rubs his forehead angrily as if that could dispel all the memories, charged with strong conflicting emotions, that are bubbling up in his brain. 

Unsurprisingly his mum didn’t get the joke. “So did you talk with Mr. Stilinski about…you know…?” She trails off.

Derek is eternally glad she doesn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t bear it. 

“We are not there yet,” he says as truthfully as he can, and in fact this _is_ the truth. 

There is always a chance his mum might hear the lie even through the phone. 

It’s weird hearing Mr Stilinski being referenced to _Stiles._ Mr. Stilinski is a bloke in his mid-fifties, with the first grey strands of hair… like the Sheriff. Mr Stilinski is the Sheriff. Stiles is… Stiles. 

Derek thought a lot about him since their meeting two days ago. They _must_ have met before, considering they grew up together in a small town. But then again, there are six years of age difference between them and Derek went to boarding school at the age of thirteen. All Derek’s brain can supply when thinking about the Sheriff’s kid is a loud, clumsy and incredibly annoying six-year-old. The memory is blurry though, he can’t even tell where it was or if they talked to each other. 

“Okay, love, I understand. Of course, this needs a few sessions. Do not worry about money, alright? We have it covered for you,” he mum says, pulling him out of his thoughts about Stiles. “Promise me, you will go again to see him, yeah?”

He closes his eyes. She means well, his whole _family_ means well, Derek knows this, he just can’t handle it. It’s just that added pressure on top of his _guilt_ that is lying on his chest like a heavy stone, cutting off his ability to breathe. If only they would stop worrying about him.

“Yeah, sure.” As soon as the words are out, he blinks his eyes open again. 

“I’m pleased to hear this,” his mum says and Derek can hear her smile, “We just want you to get better again. Talking about it is a very good first step to deal with… you know, everything and I’m sure Mr Stilinski can help you.”

~~~

“You do realise that this ‘Good Will Hunting’ stunt you’re pulling, will get you nowhere, right?” Stiles asks him with a raised eyebrow.

Derek blinks at him. Stiles Stilinski is so damn _unprofessional_ and _blunt,_ it’s pretty unnerving and he is _this_ close to telling him so. But then he would actually talk and ha! No, that’s not gonna happen. Because that is most definitely Stiles’ one goal here, Derek realises as he sees right through the offensive behaviour of his therapist.

It’s their second session and they are 35 minutes in, another round of thick silence is filling the room. 

And yeah, of course Derek remembers the movie with Matt Damon and Robin Williams. 

“Your session is already paid, so I’d say, _yay me,_ ” Stiles clasps off invisible dust from his hands with a broad grin, “easy money, right? I’ll just sit here, look out of the window, enjoy the beautiful view, zen out a bit and ka-ching! That’s my Netflix sorted for the whole next year, dude.”

Derek clutches his fingernails into his jean cladded leg, because _‘dude’_... the Psy.D. honestly just called him dude. He doesn’t want to be bloody dude-ed by his shrink, this is wrong, all sorts of wrong.

Stiles looks expectedly at him, blinks, sees him _almost_ cracking. Almost. Derek bites his tongue and swallows his snarky remark down. Stiles sighs, leans back into his armchair, shakes his head at him and stares out of the window again. 

~~~

Derek truly loves that view. He is sitting in the armchair of doc Stiles again, watching the busy streets of L.A. Inside the room it’s silent besides the low swoosh of the air conditioning, because they still don’t talk. Derek finds himself oddly relaxing in the calm atmosphere, far away from the hectic of the world outside, surrounded by an aroma of orange, cinnamon and pepper.

Today he was actually looking forward to seeing Stiles for his third counselling session. Derek strongly expected a new strategy to make him talk, but instead the doc stays quiet, staring into the distance the whole time. 

Derek can’t stop himself from casting secret side glances at Stiles, gauging what is going on in his weird mind. 

The psychologist doesn‘t fit in any cliché really, everytime Derek thinks he figured him out, the other man surprises him again. Surely this kind of behaviour isn‘t what they teach at uni and Derek wonders, if only he gets that kind of ‘special’ treatment from Stiles or if other patients get to see this unorthodox side. That thought suddenly doesn‘t sit right with him, tugs sharply in his chest and causes him to let out a low rumble. 

It‘s definitely too quiet to be heard by Stiles‘ human ears, but Derek freezes in shock anyway. This sudden feeling of possessiveness - this was his wolf side. His wolf side which he tries to suppress with every strength he can muster, and very successfully so! 

His wolf didn‘t come up to the surface for _years_ now! And yet, here, in Stiles‘ office, the wolf appears out of nothing and declares some sort of claim on _Stiles Stilinski!_

For a second he feels his eyes flashing - _blue_ \- before Derek gains back his self control, pushes the wolf back angrily. 

He casts another glance in Stiles‘ direction, hoping the other man didn‘t notice that little episode. If that‘s the case, he doesn‘t show it, because the psychologist is still staring out of the window.

The late afternoon sun is bathing him in soft yellow light, making his skin glow. Small moles are splattered over his cheek and right beside his ear. And whereas Derek is well-known for his ever-present scowl, Stiles‘ corners of his mouth are naturally pointing upwards. He always looks like he‘s smiling. The amber of his iris shines like golden honey. 

Almost like a beta. Or an omega.

Derek curses himself for letting his mind slip _again._ Stiles is _human,_ he tells his wolf and pushes him back once more. 

The relaxing mood from earlier is definitely gone by now, Derek feels more tense than ever in the other man‘s presence. It’s so damn confusing that his wolf’s showing up right here, right now, and Derek isn’t sure what that means. If it means anything at all. 

As a son of the powerful Talia Hale he learned very early that his animalistic side isn’t rational, isn’t calculating. The wolf acts on instinct and on needs and biology. An unfortunate trinity that backfired too often in Derek’s life already, that brought him here into Stiles Stilinski’s office for counselling in the first place. 

Derek lowers his eyes and stares at his hands which are folded on his lap. He’s looking at his slim fingers, his wrists and his hairy forearms, trying to focus on his breathing. It’s usually a good method to calm himself down, but today it won’t work properly. He rolls his shoulders slowly, they feel tight and stiff. 

Out of the corners of his eyes, he sees Stiles moving on his chair, tapping with his thumb on his thigh and then he hears him humming. 

It’s an upbeat melody, up the scale and down again, rhythmic. Derek looks up and sees that the amber eyes are closed now, like Stiles is totally lost in that song. The hum is deep and smooth and Derek finds himself _liking_ the melody although he sadly doesn’t recognize the song. He _might_ have heard it somewhere before, but he’s not quite sure. 

Only when Stiles stops and blinks his eyes open, Derek realises that he was staring, blatantly in fact, that he got totally lost himself. He snaps out of it and clears his throat awkwardly, hoping that his therapist didn’t notice it. 

“Time’s up, Derek,” Stiles says with a friendly smile.

On the way to his car Derek reminds himself that he doesn’t actually need therapy and he’s only here because his family kinda guilt tripped him into this, but still - there is this part in him that feels nothing but _regret_ that his appointment was over way too quick. 

~~~

  
  


During the fourth ‘session of silence’, what he calls his weekly meetings with Stiles in his head by now, the doc is strangely fidgety. He can’t sit still, keeps shifting on his chair, bites his fingernails and clears his throat every two minutes.

Feeling a weird mixture of being worried and annoyed at the same time, Derek gets the sudden urge to reach out and soothe the boy with a touch. He curls his fingers into fists and pushes the nails into his palms to stop himself from giving in. Touching is… no. It’s inappropriate. It’s intimate. 

God damnit, he wants to scent mark Stiles! 

Derek groans internally. This is bad, like really bad.

“Err, you know,” Stiles breaks the silence with a waving voice and Derek slightly jumps on his chair, “as much as I enjoy our little I-don’t-talk-if-you-don’t-talk-thing here… the thing is, I kinda forgot to take my meds?” 

It sounds like a question and makes Derek frown. Meds? What? If he only knew what’s going on up there in Stiles’ strange mind sometimes.

“For my ADHD?” Stiles adds and nods at himself. Then he holds up his hands. “Look, I know what you’re going to say right now…”

Derek slowly lifts his eyebrows to inform him subtly that he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“How can he be a shrink when he needs psychotropics himself, right? But you know what? I am sick and tired of people telling me what I can and can’t do with my ADHD, alright? It’s under control, normally, it doesn’t affect my work in _any_ form, I am a good psychologist, I know I am, alright? People tell me all the time, alright? I was diagnosed as a kid and I know how to live with it, most people don’t even _know_ I have it. But this silence thing… it’s kinda killing me today, alright? I can’t-” 

Stiles rakes with his hands through his brown hair and the strands are pointing in every direction now. The orange-cinnamon-pepper-scent gets overclouded by a bitter mix of embarrassment and shame, and Derek has to force himself to not wrinkle his nose. 

Before he is able to react in form at all, Stiles keeps on rambling.

“So, uhm, how about you keep doing that silent, broody thing of yours and I… talk? I can talk, right? I could tell a story about me, maybe the story of how I got diagnosed with ADHD, because that was my very _own_ first experience with a shrink and it’s a really funny story. I think I was almost seven back then…”

Stiles keeps talking and talking and it’s a miracle to Derek how he even has time to inhale in between this incredible rush of words that are erupting his mouth. The other man talks like a blue streak, his anecdotes are washing over Derek like a soft wave.

He learns how Stiles was as a kid, a self-evaluation that coincides absolutely with Derek’s distant memory by the way, how he had problems at school to keep up with the rest of the class, how his parents’ worry got spurred on by some asshole teacher who didn‘t knew how to handle ‘the problem kid’, and how they eventually dragged him to different doctors to find out the reason why. Stiles doesn’t spare with details and Derek gets the impression that his childhood must have been pretty lonely.

It’s a sad thought, really. 

Growing up in a house of wolves, with a close bond and enhanced hearing, with two nosey sisters and barely a chance of having some alone time, Derek can’t even imagine how different it must have been for Stiles. 

The urge to reach out and _touch_ is there again, stronger this time. Derek knows it’s his wolf again, but as much as he tries to push it back, he knows he can’t. Those stupid instincts, god he hates them so much sometimes. He wants to caress Stiles’ neck so _badly_ in that moment, just put his hand right above the carotid where he would feel the pulse of the blood through Stiles’ body, where his skin would be so warm and his scent so strong.

Derek is close to wolfing out right there and then. The fangs are already poking against the inside of his lower lip. 

It‘s probably only due to the fact that he‘s a born wolf that he is able to control his shift during Stiles‘ ongoing monologue.

Before the hour is over, Derek finds himself nodding along.

~~~

Derek can‘t do other than wonder if it shouldn‘t be the other way round, originally. He is sitting again in the comfy armchair in Stiles‘ office and listens once more to the animated talking of his therapist. 

Apparently Stiles liked the idea of talking while Derek just sat there and listened, because this time he started right away at the beginning of their appointment.

Today it‘s all about a boy called Scott.

“...and that‘s how I met Scott. Aww man, I knew we were meant to be right from the start. You know, when you look at someone and have a connection just like that?“ 

Stiles pauses and looks at him. Their eyes lock and Derek thinks he totally understands what the younger man means. 

Because he thinks he feels this. With Stiles. 

It‘s _insane._ It‘s not rational. He hasn‘t even _talked_ to Stiles since that first meeting. But still, his wolf is pacing in circles, excited, of being here in this room with orange-cinnamon-pepper and bright, golden, clever eyes. 

Derek just nods like a robot.

“I even joined the lacrosse team because _he_ wanted to play, but was too scared to go there alone. And, wow, me? Playing lacrosse?” Stiles points towards his chest with a huge grin. “Not a good idea, man. I got new bruises with every training session, I bruise pretty easily - like, just touch me and it leaves a mark…“

Derek swallows hard and bites his tongue until it hurts. Stiles should know what marking means to wolves, that it‘s like a trigger-

“And I had my fingers broken, at least four times!“

Now he is holding up his hands and wiggles the fingers. The long, slender fingers of his huge hands and Derek traces with his eyes the twist of the muscles on his bare forearms, how his wrists are moving. 

Alright. Derek can do this. He can absolutely sit here and not _lust_ after his shrink.

Stiles licks his lips before he goes on with talking: “So… me! Fragile human, while Scotty had all this werewolfy advantage, it was so unfair.”

So, this Scott is a werewolf, too, this is new information for Derek and he’s raising his eyebrow, somehow not liking the thought of Stiles being so close and - even way worse - _scented_ by another wolf. He sniffs secretly - at least he hopes Stiles doesn’t notice - but there is no smell of supernatural at all. 

“Oh didn’t I mention before that Scott’s a wolf?” Stiles asks, looking him in the eyes, as if he could read Derek’s thoughts. “Yeah, he got bitten by some rogue alpha, when we were younger. Those were some tough weeks afterwards, but I tried my best to help him, did a lot of research about all the wolfy stuff, I think I read a dozen of books back then, and somehow we managed.”

Derek can feel his eyebrows disappearing in his hairline. Getting bitten by a rogue, transforming without someone experienced, obviously without a real pack, that sounds all fucking extreme. He didn’t even know that was possible. 

Stiles looks at him with a small smile tugging on his lips, his amber eyes are watching him with a curious glint of mischief. That’s when Derek understands: his doc is probably a damn expert regarding wolves, nothing that he does is accidental. He knows exactly which buttons to push, how to trigger Derek’s wolf and he uses it to crack his facade, to get him to talk. 

Damn, he has underestimated the kid.

“Ever since, I studied everything I got into my hands about the supernatural, I attended several courses in uni. You know, over 80% of my patients are wolves, Derek. I am a wolf whisperer,” he says and somehow Stiles doesn’t sound smug or anything, he sounds genuinely proud, but he’s clearly giving out the I-get-you-sooner-or-later-vibes. 

And suddenly this feels somehow like a chase, as if Stiles is chasing him and Derek snorts and shakes his head, trying to keep his cool attitude. As if he wouldn’t give a shit. 

He can’t stop his traitorous wolf though from happily wiggling his tail.

~~~

Derek doesn’t know Lydia Martin in person, but he hates her with a passion already. Today is all about ‘goodess Lydia’ and ‘my queen’, apparently Stiles’ big crush during his teenage years.

Honestly, Derek would rather hear stories about boring Scott again instead of listening to Stiles’ endless praise on the ‘most beautiful girl in the world, dude.’

His wolf always had a very possessive strike, so he shouldn’t be surprised when he almost lets out a growl at that. Still, it shocks him. That _Stiles_ \- this unprofessional, talkative, eccentric, _kid_ with a passion for comic superheroes - of all people caused his body to react like that, is somewhat hard to process. 

“...and you know, she has this kind of aura...,” Stiles says with glowing eyes and the present tense doesn’t go unnoticed. 

So he is still in contact with her… maybe this Lydia is his girlfriend. Or wife.

But Derek would have seen the wedding ring. Just to be a hundred percent sure, he glances sideways to Stiles’ hands, but there is no golden or silver band.

“...like, she can make a room _shine_ when she walks in or something. And she is the most intelligent person I ever met, she had the best grades in school. I tried so hard to beat her in some of our courses, but she always was _this_ tiny bit better than me,” Stiles holds up his thumb and forefinger with a one inch gap, “it was frustrating. And even more that she didn’t even notice me at all, for which I can’t blame her, really. I was this hyperactive weirdo with the buzzcut back then, of course I knew I was out of her league.”

A stench of bitterness is wafting through the air, and no matter how much Stiles tries to be nonchalant about this, his scent is betraying him. Derek’s fingers are tingling again with the need to reach out and scent him, to dispel the miserable smell. 

After a second if silence, Stiles snaps out of it, clasps his hand and grins again: “But then, I kinda had my sexual awakening when I discovered I am gay and that was that with all the gorgeous, superclever strawberry-hair-coloured Stilinski-Martin kids.”

Hm. 

Derek himself is pansexual, as a born wolf gender has no real meaning for him, but knowing that Stiles is into men, is… well, good to know. His irrational anger towards Lydia Martin quickly fades into a low grumble just like that, and Derek catches himself puffing out his chest to show off his muscles. 

He rolls his eyes at himself, at his stupid typical alpha behaviour, and shifts on his seat to hide it. 

That’s why he hates those damn biology things so much: his animalistic side won’t hide _anything,_ would show their feelings without hesitating, would be able to trust the other person in a heartbeat, and Derek knows all too well that this is exactly what makes you vulnerable. It bit him in the ass too often in the past.

He won’t make that mistake again. 

After the last disaster he swore himself he wouldn’t fall for anyone anymore, he was done with _love._ Love was for fools and it only means heartbreak and trauma in the end. 

when he feels Stiles’ intense gaze on his skin, Derek looks away and grits his teeth until his jaw hurts and shoves his emotions back down. 

The past is in the past, he reminds himself, he doesn’t need a shrink to understand that. He can cope without _talking,_ he did so for years already, thanks a lot. What can talking even do, eh? Right, nothing. It just brings back bad memories. 

Derek stays silent.

~~~

“Oh, hi! Mr Hale! You’re early today!” Erica Reyes says, audibly surprised, eying the clock on the wall.

Derek freezes, checks the time himself. Oh. He _is_ early, 40 minutes actually. His cheeks and ears are getting hot and he feels awkwardly _caught._

“That’s no problem, I’ll check, if the doc can make time for you earlier,” she offers with a smile, “he is in a zoom meeting and he hates those anyway.” She winks at him. “Have a seat. Do you want a coffee or tea?”

“Uhm. Tea. Please.” Derek is a bit overwhelmed right now, if he’s honest. And he doesn’t know what to make of Erica. Was her smile a bit overfriendly? Did he see a glint in her eyes? Does she know that he’s developing a crush for his therapist?

Because that is exactly what’s happening, despite all his desperate efforts to cut his feelings off. Derek sits down in the waiting area with a quiet sigh. 

He thought way too much about Stiles during the past week. Somehow the younger man slipped on his mind right after he woke up, when he was working with a client, when he was running with Mrs Rhodes, when he ate his takeaway on the couch in the evening. In random moments, suddenly Stiles’ face was there, his ever smiling mouth, his little moles and his warm eyes. He wondered what he was doing in those moments, if he was in another session, if he is into sports and fitness, if he likes Thai food as much as Derek. 

With every passing day he felt himself getting more and more restless. Wait, that isn’t quite correct. His _wolf_ was getting restless. Was pacing impatiently around, was _whining_ for Stiles. It drove Derek insane, so he threw himself into work, booked in a few extra hours with potentially new clients. He started around 6 every morning, had a few little breaks during the day and finished in the evenings not before 10pm. 

A human most definitely wouldn’t be able to manage so much training, but with Derek’s enhanced healing the sore muscles recovered over night. It’s a boon and bane, really. Of course Derek doesn’t wanna be in _pain,_ but he loves the bone deep satisfaction of _feeling_ the exercise and he just wishes it would last a bit longer. 

Yesterday was the worst day so far, Derek was jittery all the time and had to actively concentrate on keeping his shift under control in random situations, something that normally came automatically like breathing. For a moment he thought he might be going into heat, but that just couldn’t be, his body was like a damn clockwork and his heat always comes in March. And now it was September.

His wolf wanted to be near Stiles. His wolf wanted Stiles.

Sitting in that waiting area and looking at the superhero pictures on the wall, Derek cursed once more his stupid biology. Betrayal, that’s it - his wolf was betraying him. Derek doesn’t wanna fall in love any more and what does his bloody wolf do? Right, of course he’s falling for someone. Stiles! _Stiles,_ of all people. 

“Here you go.” 

Derek jumps, as Erica puts the tea on the small table next to his chair. 

“It’s a Ginger-Orange, I hope that’s alright.”

Of course it’s orange. The smell that slowly seeps into his nose reminds him of Stiles. Great, even the tea wants to mock him apparently. 

“It’s fine, thanks, Erica,” he says, trying to manage a smile that’s supposed to look polite. Derek knows he is not a smiley type, Cora calls him straightforwardly creepy when he smiles. But Erica just returns it and her scent turns _happy,_ because although he isn’t her alpha, it’s in her beta genes to please him. Werewolf biology - urgh, Derek really hates it. 

She turns around and goes back to her desk, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. He tries to distract himself with a game on his phone, but it’s not really working when his wolf wants to pace around and _howl_. The minutes are dragging endless.

When finally - fucking finally - Stiles pokes his head out of his door and calls his name, Derek jumps up in a nanosecond, ready to claim his-

He freezes. Everything seems to stop, his body goes hot and cold. 

No, this can’t be! 

Derek looks up, oh so slowly, until his eyes meet Stiles’ amber irises. His heart does a weird tick and then goes off like a jackhammer in his chest. 

Mate.

Stiles is his mate. His wolf thinks that, at least. Derek is paralized, doesn’t know what to do, how to react, he never felt like that before, not even with-

Erica clears her throat, pulling him out of his state of shock. His eyes flick over to her and judging her surprised expression she must have noticed the speed-up of his heartbeat. God, maybe she can even smell it on him. 

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice reaches his ears and he notices a slightly concerned undertone. “Are you okay?”

No, he thinks and wants to laugh hysterically. No, he is not okay, _none_ of this is okay, but he hasn’t got a clue how to change it either.

~~~

He’s staring at the telephone as if it was his personal enemy. Maybe it is. Derek is not a big fan of talking over the phone - mind you, he isn’t a big talker at all (ask Stiles, ha ha) - but on the phone it’s even worse. 

His family demands to speak to him at least three times a week and although Derek often hates those calls, the wooden conversations filled with awkward pauses and two-word-sentences, he truly appreciates that he still has a close bond with his parents and sisters. 

Despite the fact he went to boarding school and moved to L.A. over 15 years ago.

And despite the other thing.

Right now, he actually could do with some advice - even Derek Hale reaches a point where he _has_ to talk sometimes. 

Eventually he opens his contacts and scrolls through them. He can’t call his mum because of this - and surely not Laura either, because he would never hear the end of this - so that leaves Cora.

She picks up after the fifth ring.

“Ohmygod did something happen?” she shrieks into his ear instead of just greeting him like a normal person would do.

Derek rolls his eyes and sighs. “Hi Cor’.”

“I mean, seriously, Der! Did something happen? You never call!”

She sounds genuinely concerned, Derek has to give her some credit, it’s kinda nice to know that she would worry about him. He leans back on his couch, shifts around until he is comfy and puts the feet on the small coffee table. 

“I’m fine…” he stops himself, “actually… uhm, there is something I wanted to talk about.”

There is a rustling, footsteps, and a door that’s getting closed on the other line and Derek sees in front of his inner eye how Cora just got up and went upstairs into her room. She still lives at home, feeling no rush of moving out.

“Sorry, had to go up - unless you want mum to overhear this conversation, which I’m guessing you don’t!” She snickers. “So, what’s up Der-Bear?”

“Don’t call me that!” he replies out of reflex.

Damn, he hates that nickname ever since Laura called him that the first time - which might have been at some point during his kindergarten times. He’ll never get rid of it, probably. 

“Don’t be a grumpy bear!” she says. “Wait…”

Two seconds later she tries to video-call him and he accepts. Her face pops up on his screen and suddenly he is reminded that he hasn’t seen her in person since Christmas. A wave of nostalgia washes over him.

“You look good,” he says and she just smiles at that, genuinely, knowing to just accept a compliment when he gives them so rarely. 

“Not gonna lie, you look a bit tired.”

He rubs over his beard, feeling that it got maybe a tiny bit too long in the past few days.

“Sooooo,” she stretches the word and raises her eyebrows, “what’s up, bro?” 

And just like that, all the words he tried to prepare in his head are gone and his mind is totally blank.

“My...errr...my wolfreactedtosomeone,“ he basically vomits out.

Cora‘s face keeps motionless and she just blinks two, three times. “What?“

He rolls his eyes again and then winces, because he hates _talking_ about… feelings. It‘s awkward and embarrassing and annoying. “My wolf. Reacted. To someone,“ he repeats slowly, exasperated. 

“I perfectly understood what you said, Der,“ she explains like he is some stupid child, “I just don‘t know what you mean.“

“There is… _someone…_ “ he starts, carefully thinking about his words, but he doesn‘t get far.

“Oh my god, Derek!“ Cora shrieks excitedly, face lit up by a megawatt smile. “That‘s amazing!“

He goes still, closes his mouth, wishing he could share her positivity about it. But this is _him,_ and him crushing on someone ends in disaster, it‘s like the rule of the universe. 

And it can‘t happen with Stiles.

Derek won‘t be able to cope this time.

Cora notices his hesitation and her smile slowly falters. “Oh no, don‘t gimme that face, bro! Don‘t gimme these eyebrows.“

He scoffs, rolls his eyes and bumps his head back against the couch and stares at the ceiling. 

“Please tell me this isn‘t because of _Kate_!“ Cora says and the name is laced with an audible disgust in her voice and Derek flinches.

Like everytime he hears that name.

Because of course this is because of Kate.

His sister sighs. “Der, it‘s been years,“ she says softly, “you deserve to be happy.“

Her big eyes grow impossibly bigger, when she looks at him pleadingly. 

“It‘s just…“ he starts and gets lost for words again. He swallows. 

“Stop feeling guilty,“ Cora insists sternly, because as his little sister she can apparently read him like an open book. “Honestly. No one‘s blaming you, we just want you to be happy.“ 

His throat gets impossibly tight and his chest in clenching. He wishes so much he could believe her.

“I thought you‘re going to therapy now? Isn‘t that helping at all? Mum was so excited that you’re finally talking about what happened. She really thought it would be good for you to-”

“ _Therapy_ is the whole problem, Cor‘!” it bursts out if him.

He rubs his forehead, feeling tired all of a sudden. 

“Stiles is just so… so…!“ Derek clutches his phone so tight with his right hand that he thinks it might crack any second, the other hand is lingering somewhere in the air, as he‘s struggling to get his thoughts out. “He‘s so blunt, and unprofessional, I don’t even know if it’s actually allowed to treat your patients like he treats me, seriously. And he’s _childish!_ I mean, what grown up man has superhero pictures on the wall?“ he asks hysterically and his eyes flick over to the wall where his TV is hanging right under a huge ‘Wolverine’ poster. “And he‘s so irritating, once he starts talking he hardly stops. How can one person talk so much, it‘s ridiculous!“ 

His chest is heaving and his heart beats so fast and loud against his ribcage that Cora‘s probably hearing it. 

So he listed all the things off that _should_ be annoying, really! It‘s also the list of little quirks he loves so much about Stiles.

Oh god. He loves-

“Whoah! Wait! Wait a second!“ Cora stares in shock at the screen. “ _Stiles?_ Stilinski-Stiles?! Stiles is the person you‘re reacting to? You‘re crushing on Stiles?!“ 

Her voice got louder and louder, by the end she is nearly shouting it.

“Sssssshhh!“ he hisses, panicked. The last thing he needs is his mum overhearing this. 

And too late, way too late he realises that Stiles and Cora are almost the same age, his sister is only one year older. Of course they must know each other from school. Derek wants to bump his head against the next wall. 

He is not going to live that down. Cora knows now and Cora is like terrier (ha ha, dog comparison!) - when she bites into something, she won‘t let go. 

“Ohmygod!“ she rushes out and now she looks _delighted_ , with slightly blushed cheeks, big eyes and a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth, “this is… ohmygod!“ She snickers.

Derek shifts awkwardly on his couch, sits up. Cora laughing at him is too much to handle, especially now, when he‘s feeling _exposed_ and vulnerable. 

“I‘m hanging up,“ he presses out, thumb already moving over his display.

“No! Wait, Der!“

He hesitates, takes a few deep breaths.

“C’mon, don’t be a sulky-bear. It‘s just… when mum told me that you were having counselling and that the therapist is Stiles Stilinski…” She trails off and shakes her head, then she smiles. “I thought it might be fate or something.“

“Fate?“ Derek frowns.

“Der, Stiles had an epic crush on you in highschool!“ Cora laughs and shakes her head. “It was disgusting, really.“

The cogs are turning in Derek‘s head and his wolf starts cheerfully running around in circles. Stiles? Crushing on him?

“No that can‘t be,“ he objects, “we didn‘t even know each other, I was at boarding school and then at uni.“

“Remember my 16th birthday party?“ she asks with a wicked grin.

Derek groans at the memory, because yeah, he actually does remember that noteworthy party. Their parents were away and his dad had made him promise that he would come home from uni to supervise the group of teenagers. “I don‘t want any alcohol, drugs or - heaven forbid - someone getting pregnant under my roof,“ Andrew Hale had instructed him. 

“I remember.“

“Well, Stiles was there…“

Derek frowns again, he remembers the party, a drunken Cora vomiting in their mum‘s herb garden, remembers the absolute chaos afterwards that _he_ had to clean up because his sister dearest was too hungover.

He doesn‘t remember any faces though. 

“You were probably too busy with that gf you brought to notice him… what was her name again? Peggy?“ Cora snaps her fingers while she tries to come up with the name.

“Paige,“ Derek mutters with numb lips.

He hasn‘t thought of Paige in years. She was his first girlfriend, his first kiss, his first time and he was convinced she was _it_ for him. He already made plans to propose, he already planned a future in his head - only to find out later that she had an affair with her ballet teacher. 

It‘s a memory he doesn‘t need.

“She was annoying, urgh, good riddance…“ Cora mutters quietly to herself and Derek silently agrees, before she continues louder: “Well, anyway, Stiles saw you and had his gay awakening or whatever he called it. He was chewing our ears for months or so, about ‘Derek this’ and ‘Derek that’, I almost strangled him.“ 

“You never said…,“ he whispers, melting into the couch. 

Stiles talked about his gay awakening in one of their session, Derek remembers now. He can‘t believe that Stiles was talking about _him!_

Stiles had a _crush_ on him! 

Does he still have feelings? 

Derek rakes his fingers through his hair. If he only knew! Stiles never gave anything away, no speed-up heartbeat, no smell of arousal or anything like that. Damn!

“You were so hung up on this Paige. And then you were at uni again and barely came home. I think Stiles only saw you once after, at my graduation.“

He still sees Cora’s graduation, with the stage, the endless speeches, the school band playing their evergreens, Cora getting her certificate, Cora wearing that stupid hat… he sees it all, but no Stiles. 

Ah man, he already missed two chances in the past of getting together with his mate! He could be together with Stiles for _years!_ His wolf whines miserably. 

Another sudden thought hits him: when they met in Stiles‘ office he didn‘t recognise him, he called him a kid, insulted him in a pretty harsh way. And ever since he gave him the silent treatment. Derek hangs his head in shame. He was behaving like a total asshole. Probably he blew all his chances with that bloody non-talking and it was his own fault really. 

For the first time in years his skin is itching and he wants to full shift and run and _howl,_ let all his bottled-up frustration out. 

“My wolf thinks he‘s my mate,“ he whispers and the words are out before he could even think about them.

Cora gets serious quickly and her eyes soften. “You say it like it‘s a bad thing, Der.“

“Maybe it is.“ Maybe Stiles doesn‘t want him anymore.

“It‘s really _not_ ,“ she insists, “it‘s amazing.“

He sits there, thinks about everything she told him. If he had only _known!_

Stiles, that amazing, kind, funny, witty human being, incarnating everything _good_ Derek can think about, knew him before, had a crush on him, from just seeing him at some stupid party 14 years ago. 

Now he probably thinks Derek is a total nutcase. 

“I don‘t believe in fate,“ he informs Cora bitterly.

Fate is fucking bitch. Fate brought him Jennifer and Kate, fate brought him pain and heartbreak and guilt, fate almost ruined everything. 

“That‘s alright, Der,“ his sister says softly, a little smile on her face, and Derek wonders when she‘s grown up so much. “Maybe fate believes in you.“

~~~

He is driving in his Camaro to his next client and he thinks about Stiles, which is, sadly, nothing new these days. He thinks about Stiles all the fucking time. When he wakes up, when he brushes his teeth, when he’s out for his early morning boot camp, when he’s back under the shower.

Jerking off to thinking about Stiles is apparently his new thing. When he’s under the warm spray he won’t stop imagining the other man being here with him, pressing his naked body against him. He wonders how Stiles looks underneath his hideous printed tee’s and plaid shirts, if he has chest hair or not (Derek would be fine with both), if he was ripped or just skinny (Derek would be fine with both), if he’s got moles on other places than his face…

That thought drives him crazy. He imagines how he would rub his face all over Stiles’ body, how he would inhale his wonderful scent and slowly take him apart with his mouth until he is just a moaning mess. 

He imagines the glorious sounds Stiles would make while he would blow him, he imagines how Stiles’ lips would feel against his own and on the rest of his skin. How Stiles would touch him everywhere.

The thought makes him shudder every time. 

No matter how cool Derek acts towards his family on the phone or facetime, no matter how much he pushes his wolf back, he will probably always be a tactile being that needs skin on skin contact for comfort. 

It’s always the same scenario that pushes Derek over the edge when he’s under the water and fists his cock. He’s on the bed with Stiles on top and these brown-golden eyes are looking at him through thick black lashes. Stiles’ lips are red, puffy and shining with spit from their endless kissing. Then he starts moving down and down and Derek feels his breath ghosting over his skin, making his abs twitch in anticipation and excitement. He imagines how Stiles’ would swallow him completely until the tip of his cock is touching the back of his throat, and then skilled, slender fingers start wandering, start stroking his belly and his legs. Push them up in one swift motion, expose Derek like he hasn’t been in years. And then Stiles’ would slowly move down his crack, the thumb would stroke softly over his sensitive rim and Derek can feel his orgasm approaching, the heat is coiling in his groin, the tingling feeling is running down his spine, muscles are tensing up…

“Stiles!”

Stiles pushes in with his long finger, brushes right over his prostate and that’s it, Derek’s there and he’s coming with a deep grunt. 

Clearing awkwardly his throat, he shifts on his car seat, because the memory of his morning shower made him half hard again and the erection is straining uncomfortably against the seatbelt across his lap. 

Damn, this needs to stop! If Derek would only know _how._

He sighs and stops at a red light, the traffic is taking his mind off Stiles for a short moment, before a well-known melody reaches his ear. With a quick movement he turns the radio louder. Yes, this is definitely the song that Stiles was humming during that one appointment a few weeks ago! 

_Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart_

_Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart_

_My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in_

_You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl  
  
_

He recognises the voice of Florence and the Machine immediately and of course it is a song about wolves, he realises after the first seconds. Stiles, that little shit. 

_Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers_

_Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters_

_A man who is pure at heart and says his prayers by night_

_May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright_

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me_

_I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free_

_The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound_

_I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground_

Hunters.

Ropes.

Bloodied feet.

The surroundings are disappearing and all Derek hears is the deafening noise of blood rushing in his ears and all he sees are the memories that are bubbling up inside of him. Memories of dark blonde hair, green eyes and a false smile. Memories of feeling humiliated, laughed at. Her voice echoes in his head, her venomous words, hurting him more then her physical torture could ever do, because it’s still inside him, she‘s still in his head.

Everything he buried somewhere in his mind is now seething inside him, ripping him apart. 

It’s more than Derek can handle, something inside him snaps and without even realising it he shifts into his beta form. There is a faint feeling of pain when he rips his seat belt apart with his claws. It doesn‘t matter, the only thing that matters is getting out of here, getting _air._

Derek stumbles out of his Camaro, ignoring the angry blaring of the other drivers, and then he lets his instinct take over. After being held back for years, the wolf bursts out of him with a wild energy and a roaring growl.

The world changes its colours, its smells, its perspective, its temperature and Derek starts running, howling his pain through the busy urban canyons of L.A.

~~~

Stiles steps out of his office, glances into the empty waiting area and sighs.

“Still nothing?“ he asks Erica.

“No. I tried to call him, but he didn't pick up.“

He puts his forearms on her counter, rests his head on them and closes his eyes. Damnit, this was probably his fault, he keeps thinking miserably. Replaying the last appointment with Derek in his head over and over he tries to figure out what he said, or what it did. 

He talked about his dad, John Stilinski, the honourable Sheriff of Beacon Hills, and hey! The stories with him and his dad are _funny_ , okay?! Stiles can‘t get his head around what went wrong. 

“Try again,“ he says finally when he straightens back up. 

He _needs_ to know how Derek is. Erica gives him a knowing look that he simply ignores. 

“Try again,“ he repeats, knocks on her counter and goes back into his office.

Derek was never late, in fact he always was super early. Not showing up is so unlike him. 

Stiles slumps down on ‘his’ chair and looks to the empty one next to him. The one where Derek should sit for 35 minutes. 

When his dad called a few months ago, telling him that Talia Hale was looking for a therapist for her son in L.A., he tripped over his own feet and stumbled into a cereal pyramid in his local supermarket (he won’t go there for the next 15 years or so, just until the dust has settled over this embarrassment). Hearing Derek’s name alone almost gave him an heart attack.

Derek flipping Hale, the walking spank bank material of his teenage years. Stiles will never ever forget the moment when Derek walked in on Cora’s birthday party, back when they were stupid kids. With his black leather jacket, his styled hair, his dark stubble on his chiselled chin and his gorgeous jawline. The Red Hot Chili Peppers were blaring out of the speakers and 15-year-old-Stiles was lost, totally, utterly lost, because Derek Hale was the coolest guy on god’s great earth. It took Stiles minutes to realise that Cora’s brother was not alone, that he had a girlfriend in his arm. When they kissed, Stiles had to look away and imagined what it would be like snogging Derek Hale. If he kissed as rough as he looked.

There are two things, Stiles realised on this evening. First: yes, his suspicions were confirmed, he was very much gay! Second: damn, manhandling was something he was into… a lot. 

It took him ages to get over this fateful night and just when he started to look at other guys with interest, he saw Derek Hale again at Cora’s graduation and he looked even hotter than he remembered. How was that even possible? The stubble got a bit longer, Derek was wearing sunglasses and - _ohmygod_ \- a suit! Stiles’ jaw almost hit the floor when he could do nothing but gap like a fish at how incredible the older guy looked in that outfit. 

Stiles never got closer than 10 feet to him, never talked to him. He wanted to go over there so bad, needed to hear Derek’s voice, needed Derek to notice him. Mind you, that was Stiles’ biggest dilemma: Cora’s brother didn’t even know about his existence. 

But he was always surrounded by his family and there was never the right moment for Stiles. And his big mouth aside - when he saw Derek, all his bravado left him, because let’s be honest: Stiles was just a teenager, a clumsy weirdo with a buzzcut and a spot on his temple. And Derek Hale was an incarnated _god._

So when his dad mentioned that name, it threw Stiles literally off his track. He hadn’t thought about this teenage crush for years and there he was, back with full force.

And then he actually showed up! Derek Hale was in his office, looking more gorgeous as ever, all toned muscles, dark scruff and thick hair. And those eyes… Stiles wanted to write poems on the beauty of Derek’s eyes! 

And then finally _god_ opened his mouth and Stiles heard his wonderful, sinful, perfect voice for the very first time - only to get insulted 30 seconds later. 

It was a good thing that Stiles, as a professional, could see behind that grumpy attitude and stubborn silence. Derek obviously needed help and Stiles was determined to be there for him, so he changed his tactics quickly, sensing that a “normal therapy” wouldn’t do. 

He was so sure they were heading in the right direction, Derek definitely showed interest in his stories, listened closely and a few times Stiles thought that the wolf would finally give up and break the silence.

So why didn’t he show up today?

Of course Stiles’ stupid mind goes down the worst road there is. Maybe Derek had an accident, maybe Derek is lying in a hospital bed right now, attached to beeping machines, fighting for his life-

Even wolves can suffer life-threatening injuries, right? 

Stiles jumps up from his armchair, unable to bear that devastating thought and goes back to Erica again.

“Still nothing,“ she informs him before he can even ask. 

He swallows and nods. Then he notices his next patient already waiting for him. It‘s Mr Kruger, a guy in his fifties, suffering from depression, who has to deal with his broken marriage and a failed business. Stiles reminds himself that he has other patients besides Derek Hale who need him, plasters a professional smile on his face and turns to him.

“Harold, hi! Seems I can fit you in a bit earlier today!“ he gestures the man into his office.

Despite his best efforts not to think about Derek, Stiles finds himself failing.

~~~

John Stilinski has been working shifts in the police force for decades now and although he deals with crazy working hours, he always calls on Friday‘s at 7pm on the dot, no matter if he‘s at home or sitting in the station at his messy desk. 

The man has his principles and so it‘s no surprise for Stiles, when his phone rings on his way home after work.

He stops and pulls his phone out.

“Hi daddio!“ he shouts breathless, panting like a steam train. 

“Stiles?“ John hesitates, “Are you okay? You sound… a bit stressed.“

“Sure, I‘m good. Just driving on my bike,“ he explains and bites his lip.

While he is still breathing harshly, there is silence on the other end and then a long exasperated sigh.

“Stiles….“ John starts.

“No! Don‘t _stiles_ me! It‘s just the fan-belt, Fernando says, he can’t fix it until tomorrow!“ Stiles says quickly.

“Stiles,“ his dad repeats unfazed, “I know you love that car, I know you do. But you should really think about-”

“Not gonna happen, dad,“ he says stubbornly. 

His dad should know better than expecting him to give up on Roscoe, even though it is the fourth time in three months Stiles had to call his garage of trust. Fernando is an expert on his beloved Jeep by now and Stiles trusts him to get his baby back on the road. 

“Alright… fine,“ John sighs again. “How are you then? Apart from having sore legs?“

“Ha ha,“ Stiles laughs weakly. His legs are feeling like jelly indeed. Urgh, he really needs to do more sports again! 

He gives his dad a detailed update about the past week, tells about his neighbour’s new kitten, an incredibly adorable little thing called Luna, which would be even more incredibly adorable if it would stop pooping into Stiles‘ backyard. (“Seriously, so cute and so evil at the same time!”) While he‘s pushing his bike, he complains for about five minutes over the fact that his favourite Indian restaurant down the road closed. (“How shall I survive now, dad, howww?”)

John Stilinski, used to his son‘s ramblings, listens like the patient saint he is and snickers here and there. 

“And your work? Everything fine?“ 

The little innocent question brings Stiles‘ mind back to Derek. He tried to call him too, yesterday evening, but just like Erica he had no luck. He even looked up his address in the system, honestly considering driving there and checking if he‘s home. Stiles stopped himself last minute. He can‘t do that, can he? He is aware that this is an unhealthy and unprofessional behavior. 

Suddenly he has another idea.

“Hey, uhm… there is actually something,“ he starts slowly, dragging the words. “Can you do me a favor?“

“Oh god, why don‘t I like this already?“ John Stilinski mutters loud enough for Stiles to hear.

Rude!

“Okay. Spill.“

“Could you call your friend from the LAPD and check…” he swallows, “if… someone got injured in an accident or…“ he trails off, throat getting tight. 

There is a short silence, before his dad asks: “Someone? I need a name, kiddo.“

Well, at least this isn‘t a straight ‘no’, so that‘s not too bad, Stiles supposes when he takes a deep breath.

“Derekhale.“ He rushes out and squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for his dad to freak out now, considering he‘s been friends with Talia and Andrew Hale for years now. 

Instead of the expected shouting there is just another long silence and Stiles blinks his eyes open again. 

“What happened?“ John asks calmly, his Sheriff nature obviously taking over. 

“I don‘t know, dad, that‘s the problem!“ he shouts frustrated. “He always came to his appointments, I thought we were making actual progress, but yesterday… he just didn‘t show up! He didn’t call, he’s not emailed, and I can‘t get a hold of him and I just need to know… what if something happened to him, dad?“ At the end his voice is just a shaky breath. 

The thought of Derek being hurt… or even worse… is driving him insane. At this point he is so worried he would be actually happy if this is just Derek being fed up with therapy. As long as this means that Derek is okay. 

“Okay.“

Stiles lets out a long breath and drops his shoulders. “Thanks dad.“

He reaches his house, a small bungalow, nothing spectacular, but very cosy and _his._ Being busy with opening his garage to put his bike away, he almost misses his dad saying something.

“Hey what was that?“

“I asked if you‘re still coming home next week.“

Stiles stops dead in his tracks on the threshold of his garage. He forgot about flying home. With all his work and the worry over Derek, he actually forgot.

How could he forget it?

“Yeah,“ is all he manages out. 

Of course he‘ll come home. He won‘t leave his dad on his own on his mum‘s anniversary. They always spend the day together, buy flowers and visit her grave. 

Stiles is a psychologist, of course he knows how complex ‘grieving’ is, how there is no right or wrong, how there is no magical fix. He studied it, duh. Time is a healer might be partly true, but the grief will never go away, it will always be a part of Stiles, but at least he learned how to live with it. 

Staring at the mess of unopened boxes, old furniture, tools and dumped clothes, he‘s just standing there, unable to move or to say anything else. 

“Okay. Good,“ John says quietly. 

And Stiles sees him sitting in their living room, in Stilinski house, all alone. It‘s one of those moments where he feels absolutely guilty for moving out and leaving his dad behind. 

He tries to swallow the golf ball sized lump back down.

It‘s awkward now, tense, like always when his mum comes up in their conversation. 

“Alright, kiddo. I will see what I can find out about Derek,“ his dad is trying to switch back to somewhat like a business mode. “I’d say don‘t worry too much, but I know you, son.“ 

Stiles smiles a bit at that. He wishes so much he could give his dad a bone crushing hug right now. 

“Thanks, dad. Love you.“

“Love you too. Stay out of trouble.“

The line goes dead and Stiles rolls his eyes fondly at this typical _John Stilinski_ goodbye. 

More often than he wants to admit (and his father knows - thank god for that!), Scotty had to save his ass from a wendigo, a few kanimas, ghost riders and even a darach back in Beacon Hills.

It‘s not like he’s reckless and _looking_ for danger and life threatening situations - sometimes Stiles wonders if the supernatural is looking for him. 

~~~

He just started another episode of The Clone Wars and got comfy on his couch when he hears something outside. 

At first he doesn‘t think anything of it. His house has a small backyard, there are the occasional squirrels, birds or of course the neighbour‘s evil kitten. 

Then there is this sound again, louder this time, and it sounds like something is _scratching_ right outside of his back door. He sits up straight, presses pause on his remote and strains his ears.

“Hello?“ he shouts and then immediately rolls his eyes at himself. “Oh clever, Stiles. As if the burglar would answer: yeah, the burglar‘s here,“ he mutters.

Seriously, this has never worked in movies, why should it in real life? 

Something‘s scratching again - right at his door! 

Followed by a _growl._

Stiles jumps up, heart beating somewhere in his throat. Whatever is outside on his porch - this time there is no Scotty around to protect him. 

“Fuck! Shit! This is bad! Think, Stiles, think,“ he whispers, before he slaps his forehead angrily. What if that creature out there was supernatural and had enhanced hearing?

Now it would know that Stiles is panicking!

Then again… if it was supernatural it could probably smell it anyway. Stiles must reek of anxiety.

“You know, I am a Sheriff's kid!“ he shouts, trying to make his voice sound deep and strong, while he quickly walks over to the wall where his favourite collectable Mets baseball bat is lying in a rack right above his TV. “I know how to fight!“

He grabs the bat with shaky fingers and the scratching is getting louder again, as if that thing outside is getting impatient. Another angry growl. 

Stiles takes a few deep breaths, tries to picture the next moments in his head, like Sherlock Holmes in the Guy Ritchie movies. He would open the door and swing the bat with all his 5 feet 8 inches can muster. 

That‘s... uhm… kinda all his Sherlock mind comes up with. 

It‘ll have to do. 

He sneaks over to the door, hearing that creature outside clawing, growling and _breathing._ Sending a fervent prayer up to his mum, he yanks the door open with a shout, swings his bat and-

“ _Aaaaohmygod_!“

It‘s a wolf. Black and huge. Fucking huge. Stiles is ready to hit a strike when he literally notices at the last second that the wolf is stepping _back!_

The bat is lingering in the air somewhere behind his head over his right shoulder, Stiles is breathing harshly and trembling with fear, but the wolf just ducks his head and _whines._ Honest to god whines.

It‘s a miserable sound, it reminds Stiles more of pain than anger. 

This wolf doesn‘t want to attack him. If he would he‘d done it already, due to their instinctual nature. 

Stiles‘ brain already realised this, but his body takes almost a minute until the tension slowly leaves his muscles. 

He lets out a long and shaky sigh and lowers the bat. 

“Fuck, you gave me a heart attack!“ 

The wolf sits back on his heels, crooks his head and for a second Stiles wonders if it‘s just a big black dog. But then again… that thing almost reaches his shoulders, there is no dog like this of _that_ size. 

Only the lamps in his living room are shining out on his porch and so Stiles switches on the outdoor light for a better view. 

Okay, so this is a wolf, definitely. An impressive one. And although everything about that huge wolf _should_ be threatening and aggressive, its body language and actual behaviour shows the exact opposite.

The head is bent, the ears are pointing to the side and the tail is drawn in between their legs. And its _sitting_ on his porch and letting out another _whine._

This wolf is either in pain or… sad? Stiles has never seen one that is radiating so much misery. 

“Are you hurt?“ he asks carefully. 

The wolf seems to think about this question before it shakes the head, only once, blink and you miss it.

“O-kaaaay, so… uhm…” Stiles is a little lost here. Should he go just back inside to Anakin and Obi-Wan? Or is he supposed to do something? But what actually? 

Why did this wolf show up at his house in the first place? 

The black creature lifts his head slowly, looking up straight in Stiles‘ face. Only now he sees the wonderful eyes the wolf has - they‘re hazel, an interesting mixture between green and brown.

Stiles freezes. Hazel eyes. Big black wolf.

“Derek?“ he squeaks. 

The wolf huffs, gets up and comes closer, but moves carefully like it doesn‘t want to scare Stiles. Then it bends the head again and nudges his hand carefully. The snout feels cold and wet. 

Huh. Definitely Derek then. 

With another whine the wolf nuzzles his palm and Stiles is _that_ stunned and shocked that it takes him a few seconds to get it: Derek is apologising for scaring him!

Stiles springs to action, throws the bat blindly behind him into the living room and gently pats the huge head. 

“It‘s okay, dude. You scared me a bit… I mean, who am I kidding, I nearly wet myself, but anyway, it’s fine now. No worries.“ 

The fur feels thick and soft, but also a bit damp. It definitely hasn‘t rained today and Stiles frowns. 

He takes a closer look at the wolf, strokes softly over the neck and down the back. There are different leaves sticking to his fur, the paws are dirty and the clamminess is probably sweat. 

Derek is _shaking._

Derek is shaking and melting into his touch, suddenly the weight of the wolf sags against him. 

It dawns to him that Derek is _exhausted_ and it breaks his heart.

“Whoah, dude! Careful,“ he mutters, wondering how long Derek was running around in his full shift… and since he couldn‘t get a hold of him yesterday…

Stiles swallows. Something must have happened, something must have triggered this. So many thoughts are running through his wound-up brain. Derek is alive, which is good, but there is clearly something deeper going on and Stiles wonders if it has something to do with why Talia Hale wanted professional help for her son in the first place. 

“Okay, buddy. I guess you’re hungry and thirsty, right?” The wolf gives him a look that could be described as hopeful, nods and licks Stiles hand enthusiastically. “So that’s a yes then. Listen, here is the thing…” he says carefully, “I am inviting you in, but under one condition!”

Stiles raises the pointer of the hand that isn’t covered with wolf spit. Derek crooks his head again and Stiles swears that if the wolf would have eyebrows he would frown right now. 

“Dude, you gotta shower first.”

  
  
  


Stiles takes two pics with his phone, laughing so hard, he almost trips backwards over his toilet. The wolf snaps at him, but it’s more playful than hurtful, and Stiles bats his head away gently. 

“Seriously, Derek! This is the best, Oh my god, if you could see yourself right now!” he snickers.

So, forgive Stiles for being a bit rude here, but honestly when have you ever had a 5 feet huge wolf in your bathtub, completely soaked, fur sticking to the body? Derek looks so poorly in that moment and he keeps sneezing adorably at the shower foam, although it’s unscented. 

It takes almost 40 minutes, 1 bottle of shower gel, 5 towels and several laughing fits to get the alpha clean and somewhat dry again.

“Okay, let’s go into the kitchen and look at what we find to eat for you, alright?” Stiles smiles at Derek and walks ahead. 

The quiet tap-tap-tap of the claws over the wooden floor in his small hallway signalises that Derek is following him. He was hoping that Derek would shift back when he threatened to shower him, but the wolf just let it happen. 

Stiles had like a million questions in his head. Why was he in his full shift? Why did he show up at Stiles’ house? How did he find Stiles’ house after all? 

He opens the fridge. “So… uhm… can’t say I expected a werewolf visitor tonight… err… do you like pop tarts?” He pokes his head above the door, looking expectantly at his furry guest. Derek is giving him a long look back. “Alrighty, guess not, dude!” Stiles says cheerfully and looks back into his fridge, before he got an idea. “Hey, I think I have some meat left in the freezer, let me check!”

Indeed, in the small freezer he finds some raw meat right behind his Ben & Jerry‘s stock. Stiles rips the package open and throws the frozen beef on a plate.

“Okay, this just needs to defrost and then- hey!”

Derek has basically shoved him aside and started gnawing on that iced, raw animal already. Stiles can hear the fangs scratching and Derek slurping. The kitchen counter obviously offers the perfect height for him to eat. 

“Oh, well, that’s just…” Stiles squints his eyes and feels his stomach turning. “Gross. Ew. Dude, that’s _so_ gross. I… errm… I’ll leave you to it… yeah I just…” he points with his thumb over his shoulder to his living room and walks slowly backwards. 

Oh my god, he can’t get his head around the fact that Derek Hale is currently in his kitchen, in his wolf form, eating a piece of raw, frozen meat. Honestly, Stiles thinks, as he flops down on his couch, how is this his life?

Ten minutes later, Derek is coming over, still licking his jaws, before he stops in the middle of the room, looking around and then sniffing the air. 

There is something intimate about being sniffed out by a wolf, Stiles knows this since Scott informed him that they can smell everything… like junk. 

Damnit, Stiles lives alone, he’s young and healthy and single, so yes - of course he’s jerking off in basically every room in this house! (Except the kitchen, because that would be super disgusting!)

“It’s nothing big,” he starts rambling about his home, feeling his cheeks burning with embarrassment, “This house, I mean. I bought it two years ago. It’s just this room, the kitchen, a bedroom and the bathroom, but it was affordable and not too far away from my practice, soooo…”

There is an awkward silence and Stiles grabs his red hoodie string and starts fiddling around with it. Derek comes closer, sits down in front of him and rests his head on Stiles legs. 

“Whoa, hey… okay,” he squeals with surprise. 

It’s not an unpleasant surprise though, Derek's head feels heavy and warm and comforting somehow. He pats it gently. 

“Look, I don’t know how long you’ve been… like this,” Stiles starts, “but judging the dirt on your fur, I’m guessing it’s been more than a day. You know how dangerous this is, right? What if they would have caught you?”

Running around full shift is prohibited where humans are living, only in unpopulated areas and woods are wolves and other supernaturals allowed to turn into their other form. Wolfing out in L.A. can end behind bars, Stiles knows other cases like that from the news. It’s a thought he can not bear. 

Derek rolls his eyes - a move that obviously his wolf can manage just as excessive as the human and Stiles snorts. Of course he thinks he is faster and smarter than the cops, that smug idiot.

“Come on. Just don’t do that anymore, okay? Wolfy promise?”

Derek huffs, as if he is annoyed but then he licks Stiles’ arm, wriggles his head on Stiles’ lap and closes his eyes. 

Stiles fondly shakes his head and smiles, having the promise that he wanted. 

They sit together, quietly and it’s a rare thing for Stiles to feel totally at ease. Peaceful. Usually it takes a real effort for him to be still, to keep his mouth shut and this is _nice_ for a change. His strokes that thick fur on Derek’s head, gently rolls the ears in his palms, massages carefully the soft spot on the side of the neck. Not for one tiny second is he scared that the wolf might hurt him. 

It’s _Derek._

Stiles doesn’t even realise how much time is passing, but at some point his eyelids are getting heavy and the alpha fondly nudges Stiles’ arm with his snout. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I should get some sleep,” he mutters and stifles a yawn. 

Derek lifts his head and sits back up, turning his head slowly towards the back door, letting out a little sigh. Stiles notices how his ears are hanging again and the eyes are downcast. 

“Hey, you can stay here, okay?” Stiles offers quietly and Derek quickly turns his head, the ears are perking up and he sticks his tongue out. 

Stiles starts grinning because of how adorable this is. He gets up from the couch and walks towards his bedroom, in the door frame he turns around. Derek is still sitting in front of the couch, looking after him. The hazel eyes are shining in contrast to his black fur and Stiles’ heart does a weird tick that he knows Derek must have heard. 

It’s just that he can’t help it. Derek is fucking _beautiful,_ even in his wolf form. 

And that makes Stiles most definitely a totally weird pervert. Oh god, maybe he should call his colleague Deaton again to get an appointment for himself. 

“Are you gonna stay there, sulkywolf, or are you com-” he doesn’t even get to finish the sentence, because Derek already jumps up and hurries beside him.

In his bedroom, the alpha curls up on the floor while Stiles quickly changes into his sleeping shirt. He tries not to feel awkward stripping in front of Derek, especially when he thinks about Derek’s ripped body, with all those strong muscles, and he makes a silent promise to himself to work out more again from tomorrow on. 

Glad to be covered with his Jungle Book shirt, he slides underneath his blanket and switches the light off. 

“Night Derek.”

He gets a quiet huff in return. 

Despite feeling tired earlier, Stiles is suddenly fully awake again. Derek Hale is sleeping with him. Well. In the same room. On the floor. Because he’s currently a wolf. But still! Derek Hale is sleeping with him!

The window shutters are broken and the curtains are not fully darkening the room, so Stiles still sees the black outlines of his furniture and his eyes are wandering restlessly over the shadows. Derek’s loud breathing isn’t helping at all. 

Then he hears Derek moving, shifting around. 

After another minute he moves again. And again. 

Stiles sits up and sees that gigantic body not lying at the door on the opposite side of the room anymore, the wolf is now right beside his bed, letting out the quietest of whines that Stiles’ human ears almost didn’t notice. 

“Do you…” Stiles swallows to widen his painfully tight throat again, “wanna… like… sleep here?” He shifts to the side, makes room in his bed. His traitorous heart is betraying him, it’s beating so loud and fast that Derek MUST hear it. 

A second later the mattress dips and Stiles is almost falling on his side when Derek jumps up on the sheets just like that.

“Thank god, I bathed you earlier,” he mutters, just when the wolf curls around him, pressing his warm fur against him. “Only for you I’m breaking my no-dogs-in-bed-rule,” he jokes which earns him a short growl in return.

He smiles and slowly the tension is leaving Stiles‘ body and he allows his muscles to relax again. He feels Derek’s heat and his heartbeat, the fur is tickling his arm in the best way imaginable. 

It should be weird lying next to a werewolf, but somehow it isn‘t.

Maybe it is that strange feeling of intimacy that suddenly makes him talk.

“You had me worried a lot, big guy,“ he whispers into the dark room. “When you just didn‘t show up yesterday. Erica tried to call you a few times, and so did I. I was wondering if I did something wrong.“

The cold and wet snout is softly poking at his neck, sniffing. This is Derek letting him know that it‘s got nothing to do with him. 

“And then I thought, what if this isn’t about me, what if he had an accident? What if-”

Derek whines, nudges him again and licks Stiles skin right underneath of his ear. The tongue is surprisingly abrasive and tickles him. Only the fact that he knows how important the neck is for wolves, stops Stiles from protesting. He just lets it happen and strokes over the fur. Then he remembers the phone call with his dad earlier. 

“Oh, that reminds me, I need to call my dad tomorrow. I kinda asked him to check in with his friend at the LAPD to see if you‘re missing or hurt.“ Stiles laughs nervously. “Sorry, if I got a bit paranoid.“

The wolf whines miserably again, huffing hot breath at Stiles wet neck. 

“It‘s okay, big guy.”

He wishes Derek would shift back and tell him what happened, because damn, he really needs to know. Stiles knows that his interest in Derek goes way beyond a normal therapist-patient-relationship and he’s aware that it isn’t right.

He knows he‘s got to deal with that soon and his decision is already made. Right now he‘s not ready to think about it, not when Derek is finally so close to him and everything feels so _right._

~~~

Derek is sitting at Stiles‘ kitchen table, sipping a coffee. After two days of being in his wolf form he really missed little things like that. 

He woke up before the sunrise this morning and laid there in bed, staring at Stiles who was starfishing and softly snoring. Derek inhaled deeply and nuzzled the soft neck again.

It‘s all so unreal, being here, with Stiles in his den, surrounded by his scent, by their combined scent! 

But Stiles invited him in, bathed him, gave him food, comforted him, touched him. 

Such a good mate. The best.

Stiles is his mate, he‘s sure of it now. 

Reluctantly he pulled away, carefully getting out of the bed. He shifted back and borrowed some of Stiles clothes, an old black T-shirt and ridiculously soft grey sweatpants. Wearing Stiles‘ stuff is perfect, just like it should be, Derek thinks when he‘s searching for something to eat. 

He is on his second cup of coffee and third slice of bread (werewolf metabolism!), when he hears the alarm going off in the bedroom. It‘s five past seven. 

Only a few seconds later, the bedroom door is being yanked open and Stiles is falling into the hallway. The blanket is still wrapped around his body. Derek‘s watching with an amused interest how he is fighting with the cover and struggling to get back on his feet at the same time. Stiles‘ hair is pointing in every possible direction, the wrinkles of the pillow are imprinted in his left cheek. 

It‘s adorable. 

Eventually it‘s Stiles 1 - blanket 0, and he stumbles into the kitchen, sees Derek at the table and freezes on the spot. 

“Oh,“ he says, slowly, “I thought you were gone.“

The air smells of stress, a bitter sting, and Derek doesn‘t like it. 

“I wasn‘t gonna leave,“ he says and his voice sounds a bit scratchy after days of being not used. 

Stiles gasps and only then Derek realises that it is the first thing he said since that first appointment 2 months ago. 

“Ha!“ Stiles beams and points his forefinger at him. “You _talked!_ Ha! I knew I would get you to talking! Sooner or later no one can resist the Stilinski charm!“

Derek just snorts and rolls his eyes at how ridiculous his mate sometimes is. 

“Seriously though,“ Stiles is sobering up and sits down at the table, blanket still wrapped around his hips, “how are you?“

The amber eyes are too genuinely worried and that scent of concern from yesterday is still too fresh on Derek's mind, so he decides to tell the truth. “Getting there, I think.“ He nods to emphasise his words and fiddles with his coffee cup. 

“And if I ask you to talk to me, would you actually do it this time or just give me the silent treatment for another two months?“ Stiles jokes with a crooked smile that won‘t reach his eyes. 

Derek sighs and takes a deep breath in. He braced himself for the last hour for this talk and still he has no idea where to start. 

“Should I… dunno… do this chronologically, or what?“ he frowns.

“Just start with what's on your mind and we’ll go from there,“ Stiles offers.

“I hate being a wolf,“ he just blurts out the first thing he can think of, “I’ve suppressed my second nature for years now and haven‘t shifted at all, neither alpha or beta shift.“

Stiles stays silent, but Derek notices that smell of concern again, it‘s when the orange note turns a bit sour and the pepper gets sharper. 

He knows why Stiles worries: suppressing the supernatural side isn‘t healthy. In fact, it makes you ill. And Derek knows that, alright? Of course he knows it, he is the son of Talia Hale and learned stuff like that in kindergarten. 

“ _Things_ happened in my past, bad things, and I-” Derek swallows. “I just hate being controlled by biology and animalistic instincts.” He rubs his forehead and stares at the table.

“My first girlfriend had an affair behind my back before she broke off. She said I was too possessive and she didn‘t like this ‘alpha shit’, how she called it. It was hard, you know, to get my head around that me being an alpha was something bad! My mum is the most powerful alpha in California and people look up to her and ask for her advice and I grew up being told all the time to be proud of being a Hale alpha. After that it took me a while to trust another person again, but eventually I did. Her name was Jennifer.“

Derek has to pause a moment, gather his thoughts together. Too many memories are bubbling up inside of him.

“I swore myself to do it better this time, not to make the same mistake again, so we agreed to take it slow.“ Derek laughs bitterly at the irony of it.

“Well, it turned out she was a succubus. I reckon you know what that means.“ He doesn‘t dare looking up at Stiles, the crumps on the table are far more interesting.

“A female demon that seduces men, usually through sexual activity,“ Stiles quotes the encyclopedia about the supernatural with a flat voice and Derek nods.

“She… uhm… she drugged me. With something wolfsbane laced, I suppose, I’m not sure. When I woke up, I-”

He still remembers it as if it was yesterday. Waking up in an empty bed, without clothes, to the smell of _sex,_ to the dried remains of it on his cock. Derek showered for over an hour to get that smell off, but it would linger on him for _weeks._

He notices how Stiles is shifting on his seat, but he is glad the other man stays silent and gives him time to get his story out.

“I went to the police and reported her. Turned out, she was known there already. Apparently Jennifer was obsessed with the thought of having a werewolf baby and that‘s why she-”

She raped him. Because he was a wolf.

Derek closes his eyes for a short moment. Never will he forget the humiliating questions at the police or the pitiful looks of his family.

“They caught her. At least,“ he forces out through his tight throat. “She‘s still in jail as far as I know.”

Stiles’ hand is moving across the table and taking his, squeezes softly. Derek stares at their combined hands, Stiles‘ long, slender fingers, intertwined with his own. 

The orange-cinnamon-pepper smell calms him down a bit, although is mixed now with a heavy scent of sadness. 

“I drew myself completely back. It made it easier that I already lived here in L.A., away from my pack. After a few years I met _Kate.“_

He spits her name out with the pure disgust she deserves. 

“I thought: this time it will be good… and it was, at first. She was great.“

He doesn‘t tell Stiles that he thought she was the one. He doesn‘t tell Stiles that he had bought rings already.

Because now, in hindsight, the feelings he had for her are _nothing_ compared to what he feels for Stiles. Nothing. 

“Should have got suspicious though when she told me that she didn‘t like my shift,“ Derek says bitterly and shakes his head. He was so stupid back then, “Sometimes, during… you know, sex, I shift into my beta form.“

He feels his skin burning with shame.

“That‘s perfectly normal for a wolf, Der,“ Stiles squeezes his hand again.

“She laughed at it and told me I look ridiculous.“

The humiliation is still gnawing at him, her laughter still echoing in his head.

“My best friend Kira tried to warn me about her, said she wasn’t good for me. But I was so blind, I didn’t wanna hear any of that. Kira and I were fighting all the time about it, until we didn’t spend much time together anymore and at some point along the way, we just lost each other.”

Thinking about Kira still hurts, Derek hasn’t got many friends in his life and the fact that he lost his bestie over _Kate_ is excruciating. He wanted to get in contact with her, afterwards, but the shame held him back. He said really nasty stuff to Kira during their last fight and it was pretty unlikely that she would forgive him for that.

“I should have listened to Kira and broken off with Kate, but somehow I didn‘t. If I would just have broken off with her, nothing would have happened.” His voice is barely a whisper.

He smells fire and smoke and hears desperate screams, feels the heat on his skin. Derek wishes the story would end here, but his mate deserves to know the whole truth.

“She was a hunter.“

“Derek…”

Derek doesn‘t look up, but he hears the pain in the voice and he quickly puts his free hand on top of Stiles’, grabs it like a lifeline, fearing he might draw it back. 

“I didn’t know it back then and so invited her to Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving. It went so well and I thought-... I was _happy!_ And then she trapped us inside my parent’s house, my whole family. And then she started a fire.”

His voice cracks at the memory that will haunt him forever. There is no therapy in the world that will erase these moments in the burning house with everybody in panic from his brain.

“I remember it,“ Stiles says, “my dad investigated it.“

Derek just nods, not sure if he‘s able to speak again. That was when the Hales met Sheriff Stilinski.

“Then you know,“ he says shakily, taking a deep breath, “you know that they wolved out because they were scared to death - it’s the _instinct,_ but I had repressed mine for so long that I could control my shift. Somehow I managed to break the back door open with my hands and we got out of it. If I wouldn’t have stayed in my human form we would have all died in there, scrapping at the door with our claws like helpless puppies!”

Derek’s voice got louder and louder until he was almost shouting the last part. It’s the truth though. Stupid instincts.

“But _you_ saved them,” Stiles says quietly. 

“It’s my fault we were trapped in there in the first place.”

He brought the hunter into Talia Hale’s house, how incredibly stupid he was. Never will he forgive himself for that. 

“Hey! Look at me!” Stiles pleads and very, very slowly Derek looks up, meets Stiles soft amber eyes for the first time since he started talking. The warmth he sees in there, knocks him almost off the chair. “Kate did that. _She_ started the fire.” 

Derek stares at this beautiful face, speckled with moles, at the crooked mouth, the cute nose, those magical eyes. He isn’t falling in love with Stiles, he realises, he already loves him. And he can’t believe that it was his _wolf_ \- of all things! - that reacted first, that knew it way before Derek did. 

“I pushed the wolf back,” he admits, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. “I even looked up ways to get rid of it completely.”

“What? Like a spell?” Stiles asks him concerned and squeezes his hand so hard that a human would probably feel pain. 

Derek nods, lowers his eyes again. “That’s when my mum started insisting on me seeing a therapist.”

There is a silence after that and Derek feels weirdly empty now. Of course telling his story didn’t make everything better - finger clicking and boom! - just like that all the heavy thoughts are gone. But somehow it feels good that Stiles knows it now. 

“I’m glad you told me all that,” Stiles says in that moment as if he could read Derek’s mind, “Really glad, Der. I know this can’t be easy and it was really brave of you.”

It is that sentence that suddenly reminds Derek of what they are, basically. They aren’t mates (at least not yet) - they are doctor and patient. 

“Do you say that to all of your patients, Dr. Stilinski?”

It was meant as a joke, maybe it even was Derek’s bad attempt to be a bit flirty, but damn, he feels so rusty after all those years and he knows that his words just caused the opposite effect, when Stiles’ face shuts down, he draws his hand back and gets up from the table, leaving the blanket on his chair. 

He starts pacing back and forth and with every second of silence passing, dread is filling Derek’s guts. His mate is stressed and he doesn’t like it at all. 

“Look, now that you’ve mentioned it,” Stiles starts and stops in front of him, “there is something I need to talk to you about…”

Right in that moment Stiles’ phone goes off in his bedroom, causing him to curse. 

“Wait, okay, let me get this call and then…” Stiles says and runs into his bedroom.

Derek is definitely not staring at his ass in those red boxers. And he is also definitely not eavesdropping, he knows that’s rude. But in that small, quiet house it is basically impossible for him to miss what is said due to his enhanced hearing.

“Erica, hi!... Shit, it’s already past 8?... Yeah, yeah, I know… I have an important thing here… 

I know. Can you clear my schedule until noon?... I’m sorry, Erica… It’s something important, I’ll explain later. Okay, gotta go, bye.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that Stiles said it was important - _twice._ Stiles considers him as important. Derek smiles and gets up from his chair, waiting for his mate to come back, but it takes a few minutes until Stiles is coming out of his bedroom again, his forehead in a deep frown. 

He opens his mouth, but before he can say something, Derek interrupts him.

“Stiles, wait!” He needs this to get off his chest as long as he’s brave enough for it. It’s now or never. Stiles’ mouth goes shut with a click of his teeths. “There is one more thing I wanted to tell you and…” Derek takes a deep inhale, drowns in the sweet aroma of orange, cinnamon and pepper, tries to get his thoughts together. “I heard this song you hummed once during one of our appointments, the one about the wolves, and there were some words that triggered memories about Kate, it came so sudden and unexpected and I just shifted. I haven’t been a full wolf for like ten years… or maybe longer… and I just ran around for I dunno know how long, until I caught your scent near your office. I traced it to your home and…” he trails off, suddenly lost for words.

Derek wishes he would be better at this. Talking was always his weak spot, finding the right words for what was going on in his head and his heart. Why is this always so damn hard?

“Thank you!” he presses out, finally. “What you did yesterday… it helped a lot.”

It’s not nearly close to what he wants to actually say. 

When he reached Stiles’ porch he was still in absolute limbo - frightened, terrified, guilty, lost, lonely. And Stiles took him in, cleaned him, fed him, comforted him, without even thinking twice. 

Stiles wasn’t scared - at least not after the first shock. 

Stiles wasn’t disgusted - apart from when he ate the meat. In Derek’s defense, he was really, really hungry!

The thing is, Stiles didn’t treat him differently because he was a wolf. Stiles _accepted_ his wolf. This means more to Derek than he will ever be able to express in words. And so Derek gives in, to his human instincts for a change, and does what he wanted to do for a while now: he walks over to an astonished Stiles, who is still standing in the kitchen door frame with his cute Jungle Book shirt, huge amber eyes and an open mouth. 

He kisses him.

It is not a perfect kiss, technically, Derek half hits Stiles’ chin and his hands which are cradling Stiles’ neck are probably a bit too clammy.

But at the same time it _is_ a perfect kiss. It’s his mouth on Stiles’, feeling the soft lips, sharing the same breath. Derek is kissing his mate and his wolf is jumping around and howling with joy, and his human body is ready to pass out because his heart is beating like a jackhammer.

His mate. His beautiful, funny, chaotic, clever, loyal mate. 

It’s Stiles who pulls back after a moment. “Derek…”

That one word makes him freeze on the spot. Stiles sounds sad. He looks unhappy. His scent is turning sour.

No.

No, please.

Derek is getting cold and hot again, his guts are slowly turning. This is not the reaction, he was expecting. Derek could feel their connection, it is definitely _there,_ it can’t be just one sided, it can’t! Surely Stiles must feel this too! 

“Der, we can’t-” Stiles starts, looking devastated, choking on the words.

His mate doesn’t want him.

Of course his mate doesn’t want him. 

Because he’s Derek Hale and there is only heartbreak for him out there. Because he’s Derek Hale and a mental trainwreck. 

He takes a step back and his legs feel weird, like they don’t belong to his body at all. 

Stiles is reaching out for him, but Derek jumps back as if he got burnt. He can’t handle being touched now, a touch is more than skin contact for wolves, it’s always meaningful and intimate. And it’s definitely too much right now, as well as that pleading look of these brown-golden eyes.

Derek can’t bear it, the rejection and humiliation of the situation is making his skin itch and suddenly he is grateful that his wolf wants to take over to give Derek’s brain another break.

“Let me explain-”

He just turns around and struts to the back door, his vision weirdly swimming away. Fuck, Derek Hale doesn’t cry, he thinks furiously and yanks the door open so hard, he almost takes it off its hinges.

“Der!” Stiles sounds desperate, but he doesn’t turn around.

He can’t do this. He _can’t._

Derek shifts and runs and howls.

~~~

He only shifts back to open the door of his loft with the number combination of his safety lock. As soon as he’s inside he wolves out again and hides under his bed. It’s a small blessing that his animal mind works differently, it doesn’t overthink everything like Derek would normally do right now. The wolf just feels miserable and sad and lonely. 

He closes his eyes and sleeps.

~~~

His door is beeping and opening, and Derek lifts his head only to bump it against the underside of his bed. He lets out an angry growl. Only his family knows the code to his loft and Cora’s smell reaches his nostrils seconds before she rips the door to his bedroom open and walks in. 

“God, Der. It stinks god awful here!” she curses in lieu of greeting and opens his curtains and the window. 

Derek growls at her, watches her high heels marching around on his wooden floor. She stops in front of his bed.

“You better come outta there, stinkywolf, your boo is coming over.”

Derek yelps pathetically and wriggles himself out to shift back.

“What do you mean, ‘my boo’!” he hisses at her.

Cora gives him a long look, a wild mixture between anger, concern and the typical Cora-stubbornness that drives him crazy sometimes, then she crosses her arms and raises her chin. 

“Stiles called two days ago, when you were shifting _in front of his eyes_ and taking off. Poor guy was devastated and worried as fuck. He called me, because you do realise Stiles and I are still friends, Der, right? So here I am to call you out on your shit. I texted him that you're here. He is on his way.”

He wants to strangle her, honestly. He isn’t ready to face Stiles, not now, not ever. Not after he put everything on the line and got crushed and rejected just like that. Derek glares at Cora, but the only reaction he gets is a little sly smile.

“You might wanna take a shower now. And maybe get dressed.”

As a born wolf Derek doesn’t care much about nudity, his family has seen him naked often enough and vice versa, so standing naked in front of Cora isn’t anything that would embarrass him.

What truly embarrasses him is the thought of facing Stiles after that kiss. 

Derek sinks slowly on his bed and hides his face in his palms. “He doesn’t want me,” he whispers and admitting it out loud hurts so much, he thinks his heart is imploding. 

With a little sigh Cora sits down next to him. “You can’t know that, Der,” she objects and all the edge in her voice is gone now. She lays her arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a half embrace. Then she is scenting his neck and Derek lets it happen, breathes in the smell of _pack_ and home. 

God, he misses his pack sometimes. 

“I kissed him and he pushed me back,” he says and lowers his hands, staring into the distance, still seeing that image of Stiles being shocked and taken by surprise and sad. He wants to get rid of that memory, but it’s like imprinted on his retina and the scene is replaying over and over in his head. 

“Talk to him,” is Cora’s simple advice, then she shoves him gently away, “But first: go shower. You really stink and he’ll be here in about 15 minutes.”

After the quickest shower of his life and getting dressed, Cora forces him to eat a banana and an apple and although Derek is really hungry, he feels like he might throw up any second. 

She informs him that his Camaro was taken to a pound and that the police called Derek’s family when they couldn’t get a hold of him. It doesn’t improve Derek’s mood really, knowing that Talia Hale is probably worried sick because of him. But apparently Cora already informed their mum that her son was safe while he was in the shower.

When the bell finally rings, he jumps up from his kitchen chair and his fangs and claws are dropping. Cora raises her eyebrows at him.

“Sorry,” he lisps around his canine teeth and tries to get his body back under control.

His sister gives him a peck on the cheek and goes wordlessly to the door to let Stiles into the building. 

“Hi Cora!”

Derek’s heart clenches at the sound of Stiles’ voice in the hallway.

“Stiles,” she greets him, “I know we’re friends, Stilinski, but if you hurt him, I’m gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth. That clear?”

Although he’s in absolute turmoil, Derek has to smile at that. It’s good to know he has his sis on his side. He hears Stiles’ heartbeat getting faster.

“Totally, absolutely clear. Crystal clear.”

“He’s in the kitchen. It’s to the left side.”

Then Derek hears his front door getting shut, Cora’s heel clicking on the staircase in the hallway, until only Stiles’ drumming heartbeat is left.

There is rustling, footsteps, the orange-cinnamon-pepper scent is intensifying and then Stiles is standing at the door to his kitchen, staring at him. 

Derek has to look away and he shoves his hands into his jeans. 

Suddenly Stiles stomps towards him. “Damn you, Derek, how could you-!” He lunges at Derek and throws his fists at his chest. “Ow, fuck!” Stiles is cursing at the pain in his knuckles.

Derek rolls his eyes. Only Stiles would try to hit a werewolf after studying them for the major part of his life. 

“Ouch! That _hurts,_ ” he whines pitifully and Derek eventually snarls, grabs his wrist and drags him over to the sink.

He opens the tab and switches the water to cold, then he shoves Stiles hands gruffly under the spray.

“Cold, cold, cold, cold,” Stiles gasps.

That little episode is somewhat like an icebreaker, the awkward tension is gone - there is probably a small mercy in everything. At some point, Stiles stops wailing and only the loud swoosh of the water is filling the kitchen. 

Derek realises how close they are, his chest is pressed against Stiles biceps and if he would lean in just a tiny bit, he could kiss that sensitive skin of Stiles’ neck. Derek lets go of the hand immediately and steps back. 

“I was worried,” Stiles says and looks at him sulkily, “you just ran off!”

“Well, I didn’t want to stick around any longer,” Derek bites back. 

Stiles stops the water and towels his hands off. 

“Well, maybe you should have, idiotwolf, because then I could have already told you what I am going to tell you now.”

If Stiles was a werewolf he could smell the stench of anxiety that is currently wafting off Derek’s body. He knows he won’t cope when Stiles crushes him. 

“I should have never agreed to take you as my patient in the first place-” Alright, that’s it. Derek turns around, ready to leave again. “Don’t you dare walk out on me again! You’ll hear me out, Derek!”

Derek stops, but doesn’t turn around. Okay, fine. He probably owes his mate that much - even if the feeling isn't reciprocated. He balls his hands to fists and tries to mentally steel himself for whatever will come next. 

“I should have never agreed to take you as my patient, because you never were _just_ my patient. I had this… _huge_ crush on you when I was a teenager, did you know that? I guess not, you didn’t even know I existed - for which I’m not blaming you, just for the record. And when you walked into my office? I couldn’t believe it, finally seeing you again, Der.”

Stiles makes a pause and sighs and Derek bites his lip. His heart is speeding up.

“I mean, dude, you know how you look, right? You’re still totally _amazing_ and _gorgeous_ and I was hooked up on you again the second I laid my eyes on you.”

Wait. What? Derek swirls around on the spot, gaping at Stiles, who is blushing adorably, staring at a point on Derek’s chest.

“But I am your therapist, I am the professional, I should have cancelled your appointments _weeks_ ago. But I couldn’t, because I thought then I would never see you again and this one hour every week was my only excuse to see you!” Stiles rambles and gasps for air, “So here I am now, informing you, that I won’t treat you as a therapist anymore, Mr Hale.”

The amber eyes travel up slowly and meet Derek’s, then Stiles’ whole face softens. “Do you wanna go on a date with me, Der?”

He doesn’t even think, he just lunges forward and kisses Stiles again, this time fully hitting the target. And his mate is kissing back, pushing hungrily against him, roaming his hands over Derek’s arms. Derek opens his mouth and Stiles gets the hint, does the same and when their tongues meet, the human moans loudly. It’s a wonderful sound and Derek wonders what other beautiful noises he makes. 

He is surrounded by Stiles scent, laced with an intoxicating mixture of happiness, excitement and arousal. 

Derek wraps his arms around him, doesn’t wanna let go ever. And for the first time since his childhood days, it’s not ‘he and his wolf’ - because they are _one_ now, two sides of the same. And all of Derek is buzzing with sheer joy. 

His mate.

His mate wants him.

Stiles pulls back, but doesn’t go far. He presses his forehead against Derek’s and lets out a shaky laugh. “I can’t believe I’m kissing Derek Hale.”

“Technically I was kissing you,” Derek throws in, still a bit breathless.

“Excuse me?!” Stiles pretends to be indignant, but the huge grin on his face is betraying him and it’s cute as hell. 

Derek shrugs and feels himself grinning.

This time Stiles kisses him, not wasting time and going straight for an open mouthed kiss. He licks behind Derek’s teeth and shoves him against the wall and oh yes, Derek likes this wild side of Stiles a lot. He's never been kissed like this, like they were both starving and needed the other person to survive. 

Grabbing Stiles jaw, he feels the blood pumping under his palms and rubs his thumbs over the skin. He’s scenting his mate. His.

Stiles jumps and wraps his legs around his waist, clinging to Derek like a little koala. He grins against Stiles‘ mouth and reaches down, grabs his ass with the perfect excuse of holding him up.

He squeezes and Stiles moans again. It‘s like music to Derek‘s ears.

“Fuck! Werewolf strength,“ Stiles wheezes out and grinds his hips, “so fucking hot!“

His mate praising his supernatural strength and the friction, the warm body in his arms, the scent, the kissing and _god, that ass_ \- Derek is rushing high on endorphins. Everything is too good, too perfect and he is getting hard in seconds, so hard it almost hurts.

It‘s been so long since he was together with someone. After Kate there was a time where he didn‘t feel arousal at all and he wondered if she might have broken his sexuality as well.

Only Stiles has awoken these feelings in him again. 

Without even realising it, Derek started walking, blindly, while holding and kissing Stiles. Somehow they are in his bedroom and because there is currently not much blood in his brain it takes him a moment to realise the importance of this moment. 

Of bringing another person in his den. 

But he wants this, so much, them, together, here. 

He wonders if Stiles understands the big gesture that he‘s making here and of course Stiles, the self-proclaimed wolf whisperer, pulls back and smiles broadly.

“Are you sure, sexywolf?“ he asks, voice bright, face flushed and lips red from kissing. 

His hard cock is poking against Derek‘s stomach and damn, Derek was never in his life more sure of anything! 

He lunges forward and attacks Stiles‘ neck this time, kisses, licks and sucks the sensitive skin in until he’s sure it’ll bruise. The groan he gets for that is beautiful. Stiles cranes his neck, rolls his head to the side to give him better access, a sign of submission for a wolf and Derek growls and feels his eyes flashing. 

“I… gotta warn you. I snore,” Stiles whispers breathlessly and chuckles. 

Derek just hums and sucks another hickey right above the collarbone. He knows about the snoring already, since they slept together in the same bed. 

“And- aaahh!... I talk a lot, even during...s-sex!” Stiles is humping him now, gasping.

Humming again, because that’s just how he expected Stiles to be and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest, Derek peels him off his body and throws him on the bed.

“Fuck, yeah. Manhandling. That’s a thing. C’mere!”

The amber is almost gone from Stiles’ eyes, they are all dark brown now, building a hard contrast to his pink cheeks. Derek crawls slowly on the mattress, notices the little hiccups in Stiles’ heartbeat and how the whole room is smelling of arousal now. 

“I eat pop tarts for breakfast and I drink milk out of the bottle,” Stiles rushes out, when Derek presses his face against his stomach and nudges his shirt up with his nose. 

As soon as he sees a stripe of Stiles’ bare belly, Derek starts licking the skin around his navel, revelling in the fact that Stiles has a perfect small, dark happy trail. His mate writhes underneath him, chuckles again. 

“Oh, and I _love_ Star Wars. I’m doing an annual marathon on the 4th May…”

Derek barely listens to the rambling, he is too busy snarling at the damn fabric that’s in his way. He shoves the shirt up determinedly until Stiles whole torso is naked. What a glorious sight, Derek can’t decide if he just wants to stare, kiss or mark the skin. It’s all so overwhelming. 

“I can’t cook at all and hate clearing up.”

Somehow this stops Derek, that messy desk in Stiles’ office all too present in his mind. “What the hell are you talking about all the time?” he asks, frowning. “Are you checking if I have second thoughts?” 

Stiles blushes even further, casts his eyes down and bites his lip. “I dunno. I guess?” He sounds so shy suddenly. “I mean, you are…. _you!”_ It bursts out of him and he gestures wildly at Derek, “And I am… _me.”_ His voice falls flat at the end. 

Derek crooks his head. Damn, his mate is so stupid that he isn’t realising how brilliant and perfect he is. But at least he’s adorable in his stupidity. 

“I prefer the original Star Trek series to the Next Generation,” Derek states. 

Stiles’ eyes go big. “No way! You can’t! _Der!”_ he whines overdramatically and Derek grins. “Okay, maybe you’re not as perfect as I thought,” Stiles grumbles, but his eyes are soft and full of affection. 

There is a moment, where they’re just lying there - Stiles on his back, looking up at Derek, and Derek leaning on his elbow, meeting Stiles’ eyes. It is like time stands still all of a sudden, and yeah, that may sound corny, but it’s the way Derek feels and it’s the truth. 

He never thought he would have this with anyone, not after everything he’s been through. Stiles is like a bloody miracle. 

Gone is the rush, the sexual frenzy, replaced by something more intimate. Stiles gives him one of his crooked smiles and Derek loves him.

“I think you’re my mate.”

The words are out before he could overthink them and he’s panicking if this is way too early to throw this heavy information on their blossoming romance. It was literally only yesterday since he _really_ _spoke_ to Stiles for the first time!

Derek wants to get up and hurry out of this room, feeling too exposed and vulnerable, but Stiles grabs his arm and holds him back. 

“Der, look at me,” he demands quietly and only when Derek does it, he speaks again: “I don’t have second thoughts about this, okay? Nothing you say to me will scare me off, because in case you didn’t notice it already, stupidwolf… I’m in love with you.”

There is no lapse in his heartbeat, the smile is genuine and the eyes are sparkling. It leaves Derek speechless how easy, how naturally Stiles accepts him, with all the supernatural stuff that comes along with him. 

Then Stiles kisses him, softly this time, gentle. Derek sinks into the mattress with a little sigh until they are both on their sides, holding each other in a tight embrace, simply relishing the other’s presence. 

Stiles is a great kisser, he lets Derek dominate the kiss, but sometimes he takes over control and that sends little sparks down Derek’s system. He always loved submitting, despite his alpha nature, something that backfired horribly with Jennifer and Kate and what Derek swore he would never ever do again.

Now though, with Stiles, everything feels different. 

He pulls back and looking into the most gorgeous face on earth makes him suddenly giddy and brave. 

“Since this is confession time: I tend to be possessive and I’d love you to top,” he says with a little smile.

Stiles freezes next to him and his eyes comically widen until Derek fears they might fall off. He has to bite the inside of his cheeks to stifle his laughter.

“Okay, first: that was actually funny! Derek Hale can make jokes - who knew?” Stiles teases him, “And second: holy fucking mother of god, do you really want that?”

He sounds so eager that Derek can’t hold it back anymore, he snickers and nods. Stiles suddenly sits up and grabs his shirt.

“Off! Off!” he mutters urgently. “Too many clothes!”

“I didn’t mean necessarily _now,_ Stiles,” Derek says, but complies obediently and pulls his shirt off. “I don’t want you to rush into something.”

And he means it. Consent is important to him, he would never-

“Shut up,” Stiles says fondly and his eyes are roaming his bare torso, pupils getting dark. “Fuck, Derek.” 

His hands start stroking Derek’s skin, they feel warm and strong and those long fingers look incredible on his pecs and abs. Years of daily exercise have shaped his body and Derek is justifiably proud of it, but seeing how Stiles basically looks at him like he is the 8th wonder of the world makes him preen. 

Stiles’ scent is spiked with arousal again and after their little interlude Derek feels himself getting hard again.

“Rush, my ass,” Stiles mumbles, leans in and starts kissing Derek’s collarbone. “I wanted you since I’m 15,” he whispers against his skin and causes Derek to shiver all over. “Dreamt about this for so long.” He licks down to Derek’s right nipple. “Having you, like this.” He draws the little bud in and sucks harshly, making Derek hiss. “So fucking hot.” Derek closes his eyes and feels the hot breath ghosting down his stomach to his belly button. “Always imagined what you would like in bed…” Stiles’ tongue dips into his navel before he’s marking him there, then he sucks another hickey above Derek’s hipbone. “Wish my marks would stay on your skin forever…” Derek moans helplessly at that. God, he wished that too. “Wish everyone could see that you’re mine.” And with that Stiles presses his mouth right on Derek’s crotch, against his hard cock.

Derek’s whole body is twitching at the sensation and he curses loudly. He nearly spills then and there into his pants. Stiles really is a wolf whisperer and he knows how to press all of Derek’s buttons. 

“Yours,” he wheezes. 

Stiles just hums and keeps mouthing the tent of Derek’s jeans. Then he opens the button and the fly with his skilled fingers and yanks them down along with the black boxer briefs. Cold air is hitting Derek’s dick and he can feel precome leaking already. If Stiles continues like this, he definitely won’t last long, he feels like bursting already. 

“Stiles,” he pleads, although he’s not quite sure for what exactly.

Only a moment later the hands are back on his skin, caressing him lovingly, followed by Stiles’ soft lips, kissing his hip bone, his thigh, his balls, his pubes. The breath is tickling him in the best imaginable way, but Derek needs _more_ and when Stiles’ cheek is rubbing against his cock, he’s bucking his hips to get some friction. 

“Stiles.”

And suddenly his dick is surrounded by a wet heat and Stiles swallows him down in one go. Derek rips his eyes open and lets out a mixture between a groan and a shout. The tip of his cock hits the back of Stiles’ throat and his mate hums again. Derek feels the vibrations in his whole body. He lifts his head and looks down, watching Stiles’ head bobbing back and forth and red lips being wrapped around his shaft. The amber eyes are meeting his heated gaze through long black lashes and fuck! It’s his fantasy becoming reality and Derek is close already.

He squeezes his eyes shut again and pushes his head back on the pillow, trying to hold it back. He doesn’t want it to end so soon. Balling his hands to fists and holding his breath, he thinks about cleaning the loft, collecting his Camaro from the pound, calling his mum… 

Stiles is swallowing around his cock and pulling off with a slurp. The tongue starts licking up and down and Stiles moans as if blowing Derek is the best thing in the world. 

It’s still there, the need to come. The heat coiling in his belly, the balls shrinking, his muscles tensing. And Derek feels his eyes flashing, feels the shift itching under skin.

“Let go, Der. It’s okay,” Stiles whispers, reading his mind _again,_ it’s scary. 

It’s like a dam is breaking in Derek’s head and he relaxes and instantly feels his fangs dropping, claws forming and ears transforming when his beta shift overtakes him. 

His heart stops for a second when he hears that vicious laughter of Kate echoing faintly in his head. She loved to mock him when he shifted, sometimes he wondered if she triggered it on purpose just to tease him with it afterwards. 

“Still gorgeous.”

But this is _Stiles_ and Stiles takes him in his mouth again, while his hands keep stroking over Derek’s body, and there is no room for thinking about the past right now. Now it’s just him and his mate.

“Stiles.” It’s like this is the only word Derek can say by now. 

Due to his beta form, his senses are better than in his human form. The smell in his den, their combined scents laced with arousal and precome is so intense, he feels like getting high on it. The nerves on skin are way more sensitive now, every touch is sending little jabs towards his groin. 

It doesn’t even take a minute and he’s there.

“Stiles!”

He barely manages the warning out before everything explodes and his body snaps up from the mattress and he’s coming right down Stiles’ throat. 

It’s feeling endless and yet it’s over too soon.

Derek’s body sags heavily against the bedding and yet it’s like flying.

His heart is beating so fast that he wonders if he might die any second and yet he never felt more alive. 

After he doesn’t know how long, he blinks his eyes open. Stiles is sitting there, grinning at him like the smug little fucker that he is and Derek just laughs. He shifted back by now, so he uses his hands to pull him down and kisses him deeply. Tasting his own cum in Stiles’ mouth makes his spent dick twitch again. 

Stiles’ shirt is rubbing against his skin and Derek carefully pushes him off. “Why am I the only one who’s naked here?” he pouts. 

They get Stiles’ clothes off in seconds, both yanking, pulling, shoving and giggling like lovestruck teenagers. 

“So. Will you fuck me now?” Derek asks and spreads legs demonstratively. 

Oh yes, he’s gained this much confidence. He can trust his mate. He _trusts_ his mate. 

“Damnit, Derek,” Stiles groans helplessly. “You’re killing me.”

Getting fingered is an experience difficult to put into words. Derek has only done this to himself so far, but Stiles’ long, slender fingers feel so much better. The little stretch and burn is amazing actually and Stiles is so careful, kissing him softly, whispering compliments into his ear, alternating between sweet and filthy. 

Derek is a mess on the sheets, fully hard again and leaking, when Stiles finally knees between his legs. His cock is nudging against Derek’s hole. 

“Okay?” Stiles asks and his voice sounds a little strained.

“I’ve…” Derek licks his lips and they are numb from all the kissing, “I’ve never done this before.”

He feels his cheeks heating up at that admission and Stiles’ jaw falls open.

“Are you sure you want it then? We don’t have to, I mean, I definitely need to cum anytime soon or my balls are gonna fall off, but I can wait and we can do something else instead-”

Derek just presses his palm against Stiles’ mouth to shut him up.

“No,” he says firmly, “I want you. Now.”

Stiles licks his hand, obviously to force him to take it away again. Derek rolls his eyes.

“I’m a wolf. I don’t mind your spit on my skin,” he informs Stiles matter-of-factly, pulling his hand off.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Stiles’ moans and kisses him again. 

And then he’s pushing in, Derek tenses up for a second, has to remind himself to relax. It stings, but it doesn’t hurt. Oh so slowly Stiles fills him, cursing, hissing, gasping. 

Derek looks down, watches how the cock disappears in him and then he is finally full and stretched.

Their eyes lock and Derek wants to laugh, cry and moan at the same time.

It doesn’t feel like he imagined it.

It’s better. So much better.

Stiles moves above him, pulling out and pushing in again. It knocks the air out of Derek’s lungs.

“Fuck!” he grits out and closes his eyes again. 

Holy shit. Stiles on him, around him, in him. Derek can only hold onto his body, wrap his arms around Stiles’ torso, absolutely overwhelmed and drowning in this delicious smell of their combined scents. 

“God, Derek!” Stiles moans, “You’re so fucking tight. Feels so good.”

He’s rocking into him, brushes over his prostate again and again and again. Stiles kisses him, messily and uncoordinated, rolling his hips faster and faster. 

Then he mouths over his chin, along his jaw and down his neck. Derek doesn’t even think about it, he turns his head away, bares his neck for Stiles.

“My good alpha,” Stiles breathes and moans, “so good.”

Derek’s body is trembling with lust, every cell is buzzing for his mate. He is _one_ with his wolf, loving Stiles. 

“I‘m yours,” Stiles fucks into him hard, “and you‘re _mine_.”

Then he bites into his neck and that’s it, Derek is coming again, untouched, so sudden and intense, his body feels like it's being ripped apart. He thinks he’s screaming against Stiles’ hot and damp skin, but he’s not sure, because everything is exploding and white and hot. 

Somewhere Stiles is groaning and snapping his pelvis, then he collapses on Derek.

It’s how they’re lying there, Derek buried under Stiles’ body, both panting harshly, unable to move. The bone-deep feeling of being content, relaxed, tired and all over happiness seeps into his body, makes his limbs heavy. A smile spreads on Derek’s face, because wow. He didn’t even know he could come hands free. It only took 35 years and his mate to find that out. 

He pats Stiles’ back, because at some point he is actually getting heavy on top of him. 

“No,” Stiles mumbles grumpily and doesn’t move an inch. “Lemme.”

Derek thinks for a moment, then he clenches his ass. Stiles hisses and jerks and Derek grins. 

“You’re evil, Hale!” Stiles informes him and carefully pulls his oversensitive cock out, then he flops down next to him.

Cold air hits Derek's’ wet belly, coated with cum and sweat. He should get up and clean himself, but his body isn’t willing to cooperate yet, so he just rolls on his side and stares at Stiles’ profile. 

He’s got his eyes closed and so Derek takes his time to look at those perfect lashes, to count the moles right next to his ear, to smile over that cute nose and its little curve upwards.

“Stop staring, creeperwolf,” Stiles mutters without opening his eyes and his mouth is turning into a dopey smile. 

“No chance,” Derek shoots back.

Stiles turns his head and peeks one eye open. “Cheeky.”

Derek says nothing, but shifts closer and snuggles against his side. They are lying now just like when he showed up at Stiles' house as a wolf and shared a bed. 

Stiles just treated him so _normally!_

“You really are a wolf whisperer,” Derek says and buries his forehead in that perfect neck. “All the things you said and did,” he inhales sharply, “that was so hot.”

He wonders if the imprints of Stiles’ teeth are still visible on his skin, shivering at the memory of the bite. 

“Oh, yeah, told you I’m a wolf whisperer,” Stiles says smugly. “And I watched werewolf porn. Loads of it.”

They start laughing at the same time and it’s such a new experience, being carefree like that in bed. Not worrying about saying the wrong thing, doing something that would cause the other to laugh - it’s freeing. It’s amazing. 

“Being possessive is not just a wolf thing,” Stiles says when they both are sobering up, “it’s a _Derek_ thing. And a _Stiles_ thing.” 

~~~

Derek rolls his eyes, because, yes of course, Stiles’ is one of those people who actually changes their facebook relationship status.

_In a relationship with Derek Hale._

He shakes his head fondly, wondering how on earth it is possible to love this idiot so much. Then he taps on share and puts the phone away.

~~~

His new therapist is a guy called Alan Deaton, according to Stiles, an absolute expert and “the best”.

According to Derek, he is the walking cliché of a therapist, boring and not talking enough, his desk is too organised and Derek thinks a few He-Man posters are truly missing in that sterile office. 

~~~

There is an insane amount of notifications on his facebook because of his new relationship status. Apparently half Beacon Hills is cheering for them.

There are a few messages as well. Only one makes his heart speed up though and he clicks with shaky fingers on it. 

**Kira Yukimura**

Hi Derek, 

it’s good to read from you. I’m really happy for you. I know a lot has happened between us, but if you’re up for it, I’d love to meet you for a coffee. 

K x

Derek sits down on the couch, suddenly feeling tearing up. He misses his friend so much and getting back in touch with her would really be too good to be true. 

He scrolls through his contacts until he sees her name, then he takes a breath and hits ‘call’. 

~~~

“You two are disgusting!“ Cora tells them when they are facetiming her. “Just so you know Der, I‘m gonna be your maid of honor!“

Derek freezes and wants to strangle her once more. Cora is the worst really! He is together with Stiles for only two weeks, and he still worries that the whole _mate_ thing might be too much for Stiles at some point anyway - why did she have to bring up _marriage?_

Stiles shoves a handful of dry Frosties from the box into his mouth. 

“Aww sweet!“ he talks and crumbs are flying everywhere across his bed where they both are lying, “Scotty will be my best man, we‘re going to look _ace_ on the pics!“ 

Derek knows he‘s going to hoover the bed after this call, looks at Stiles with a happy grin and loves him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So, I read a lot interpretations about the songtext of Howl and here are my two cents: for me it‘s about love and passion, feelings that so intense and overwhelming, like 'a curse'.  
> Idk, might be wrong, but I love this song and it fit so perfectly in my mind 🤣
> 
> Hope this fic was okay. I apologise if it was a weird mix of British and American English. I am German and always struggling with Grammar. 
> 
> Comments are love 🥺
> 
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://karlakattz.tumblr.com) or on [twitter](http://twitter.com/miss_kattz)


End file.
